More than meets the eye
by EleniDalby
Summary: Hank McCoy, secretary for mutant affairs, gets more than he bargins for when he agrees to a deal with his boss. OC
1. Chapter 1

Manipulation and Malcontent.

"We've got a favour to ask you, Hank" Tom Jordan, who actually was in charge of Hank McCoys department but generally stayed in the much prefered shadows and let the blue-furred mutant scientist run the show, said as he gestured to the chair opposite his desk, his expression carefully blank though Hank caught the tiny hint of ruefulness in his tone. Hank McCoy, dressed impecably in a well fitting and incredibly well tailored suit, paused in the act of sitting down, both wireless glasses and signet ring glinting in the soft golden light of the afternoon.

"Should I be worried about this?" He asked shrewdly though tempering it with a slight smile. He knew his boss well.

"I was wondering if anyone in your department has said anything about a Miss Kit Kincaid?" Tom asked his voice apparently innocent, pressing his fingers together as he sat back.

Ah.

That explained it.

Kitty Kincaid.

Hank hadn't yet heard of a single person who liked her. According to rumour she was rude, cold and ruthless, having been shifted from department to department she seemed set on personal gain and little else. She was unscrupulous, ready to tread on others just to further increase her wage and was loyal to no-one.

"Not thus far" Hank replied in neutral tones, irritation prickling at the back of his neck. He knew _exactly_ what was going to happen, Miss Kincaid was going to get shifted into his department, ransack it for whatever it was she was after and move on - _just_ as she had with nearly every other department. Why hadn't this woman been fired yet?!

"She was a lawyer once upon a time, highly trained and she has-"

"A killer instinct?" He asked dryly. Tom smiled slightly.

"Ah, so you _have_ heard of her"

"You want her in my department?" Hank said, already tired of dancing around the point, Toms smile broadened out as if he'd won already. Which he probably had, Hank's department was too short of staff for him to be picky. No one seemed to want to get involved with the most controversial and, frankly at the moment, dangerous departments of the government. Even the Home Secretary wasn't getting this much grief from people. The protestors were a constant irritation in Hanks side, constantly forcing decent, upright members of his staff to quit their jobs for fear of the violence that might be done to them...damn it. Tom _had_ won.

"We _would_ like her in your department, we feel that she'd be a, uh, good addition to the perfect team" There was a pause that Hank refused to fill with the question he was expected too, "but someone informed her of the move and she threatened to hand over her resignation if it goes ahead"

"Ooh I knew this wasn't as simple as it sounded" Hank pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his wire framed glasses, staving off the start of a headache. "Tom…if she's determined to hate the job what's the point of trying to force her into it?"

"Exactly, we would like _you_ to...persuade her that this job is…worth it" Hank stared at him for a long moment, one elegant blue eyebrow raised in an expression of 'definitely-not-pleased', "come _on,_ McCoy, we need this woman, she's good, _really_ good, nearly as good as you" There was a pregnant pause, Hank wasn't going to respond to flattery either. "They call her the cobra, you know" Hank turned round but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Why? Is she mutant?" He asked, trying to flatten out the interest in his voice.

"Not that we're aware of and we _have_ been watching her" Came the flippant reply, "They call her that because once she gets hold of an idea, she holds on and doesn't let go until it dies of exhaustion or boredom. She'll fight over any issue as long as the grounds are solid"

"And if they're not?" He asked sharply, a little sharper than he intended. "Tom, most mutant rights are brand new, some of them made up on the spot by government officials who _think_ they're doing good. A _lot_ of the issues we fight have no grounds whatsoever, will she fight for _them_?"

"Yes, we have reasons to believe that she'll fight for any mutant cause that you give her" Tom said with so much confidence that Hank took a moment to think.

"And these reasons are…?"

"Classified" Came the firm reply before Tom grinned, suddenly looking mischevious and capable of much naughtiness. "Or maybe we just offered her an obsene amount of money...come _on_, Hank-"

"As a favour?" Hank interupted, almost tiredly.

"As a favour" Tom nodded solemnly, though his eyes twinkled merrily. The doctor sighed heavily as he stood up.

"I don't appreciate being bullied into working with someone who's a known sponger, Tom" He said irritably, noting the relief drain from the other mans face, "I _will_ want this favour repaid at some point in the future and if she unsettles my department-"

"I know, I know…I'll have her out and re-deposited before you send the memo"


	2. Chapter 2

A.N: - ok ppl, so this IS a slow starty one but stick with me, k?

Accidents and appointments

"So when's this appointment Jen?" Hank asked without looking up. His secretary, Jennifer Spring, was an olive skinned, dark haired, highly attractive, middle aged lady who was almost constantly dressed in tailored skirt suits of various shades that suited her voluptuous frame. Hank had liked her from the moment she walked in, the deep smile lines either side of her eyes marked her as someone with a wicked sense of humour and he hadn't been disappointed.

"For the _third_ time today, Mr Secretary, you've got to see Miss Kincaid at ten past twelve…so you've got some time for a coffee and cake run you're thinking about." Hank couldn't help glancing down at his watch as she spoke, smirking and shaking his head at her words.

"Was I being that obvious?"

"No, but I could hear your stomach growling." She shrugged her shoulder. "And you owe me a coffee considering-"

"Yes, I know, I remember." Hank reached back for his wallet. "Where were you thinking?"

"There's a new coffee place open on eighty-second if you like? I hear they grind their own beans" She suggested, snatching the twenty out of his hand without looking. Hank nearly laughed at the lightening swift reflexes, she always seemed to move faster around money and Hank caught himself thinking that it was a good thing she never worked for a bank. "It'd be easier to arrange a car than call for security. David's still ragging on me for letting you walk out last week without calling him-" As far as he was aware, David Lyle, Hanks over-protective head of security, was now taking meds to calm his nerves.

"Yes, alright, a car." He gave in instantly as he stood up, stretching luxuriously. "I'm honestly starting to forget why I even _have_ legs." Jenny opened the door for him, half smirking.

"To get from the desk to the car." She said as he went past. "Duh." Hank laughed under his breath, walking at a pace that was just a _little_ too fast for his shorter secretary.

The car was waiting outside, sleek, black, smoky bullet proof windows and Hank tried not to feel overly irritated as he slid inside. From fighting with the X-men with debris, lightening, bits of people and god knows what else flying around the place to living a life that was practically wrapped in cotton wool. He could understand the necessity but sometimes, just sometimes, it got under his skin.

Jenny settled in opposite him, already murmuring into her blue-tooth, the frown on her face indicating that she was already arguing with Lyle. Hank let his attention wander, thinking back to his brief re-union with the X-men. Somehow, despite the threat to the World, his family and all of their lives, things had seemed almost…simpler. Kill the bad guy, save the world. Ok, so there had been much more to it than that but now, it seemed to be get this petition signed, speak to those people, argue with them, read this, settle down this or that radical group…there were no set bad guys. Much as he might want too, Hank couldn't punch another politician in the face for cruel deeds hidden behind clever words, all he could do was fight back with words of his own. Fortunately for the mutant race, Hank was a God as far as words were concerned, not that he would ever admit to such himself.

"We're here." Jenny said unnecessarily as the car hovered to a stop.

"Marvellous." Hank reached out to the door handle.

"Nah." Jenny's hand settled on his wrist, pinning it effectively to his leg with the slightest of pressures. "If I let you go in there without your guards, David will have me shot by the C.I.A, F.B.I and anyone else who owes him a favour or two. So what do you want?"

"Could you get me a Peruvian blonde, please?" Hank asked, half smiling as he added. "And a coffee wouldn't go amiss either."

"Cake?" She asked dryly, refusing to rise to the proverbial bait.

"Anything with too much sugar in it, if you please." He moved fast and opened the door. "Would I be at least permitted to get out of the car to stretch my legs?" He asked.

"If I get shot or die or something, it'll all be your fault you know. You'll have to live with that." Jenny said sarcastically as she got out, the twenty fluttering in her fingers once again. Hank snorted and watched her walk away. Tucking his hands into his pockets the Secretary for Mutant Affairs strolled, almost aimlessly, towards a flowering cherry blossom tree. The scent of it was everywhere and he was glad that the street was relatively un-crowded so he could enjoy this moment of brief freedom – in his day – without any hassle.

"Hey McCoy!" Hank turned to see Jenny walking towards him, laden with a cup holder and paper bag. She seemed to be struggling so he hurried, intent on helping out. "Peruvian blonde and one cake with enough sugar and fat to give you a heart attack if you so much as _look_ at it, as ordered." Jenny smiled, handing him the paper cup once they were sorted out. Hank smiled back wirily and turned round, intending to look up at the cherry blossom once more before they left. "watch out!" Jenny's warning came too late, there was a small explosion of coffee and Hank looked down at the sound of a gasp as hot coffee dripped over his hand and down his frameless glasses. His suit was remarkably unscathed, the other person however was drenched…

"Miss, I'm so sorry" He said, cringing inwardly as the rather haggard looking woman looked up at him with wide eyes. Her expression went from one of shock to understanding in a few seconds, a gentle smile softening her face as she readjusted the child on her hip, checking the toddler for burns.

"Oh don't worry about it, it'll probably wash out" She replied, touching his arm in a friendly little gesture before turning her attention back to the child.

"Is she alright? Did I hurt her? Or you?" Hank asked, aware of the attention they were attracting. The little girl grinned up at him, gap toothed and dimpled, it was then he noticed the slight elongation of her canine teeth and two tiny white horns peeking out from beneath the child's hairline.

"Definitely not." The woman smiled again, barely glancing at him, too distracted on making sure the toddler was alright. "Uh, have you got a napkin?"

"Uh, Jen-" Hank needn't have said anything, Jenny was already leaning forward.

"I'll take care of this. You've got an appointment in ten minutes." The secretary's secretary smiled kindly at the woman who was now standing in a small cooling coffee puddle. Hank looked down at his watch and only the presence of the child stopped him swearing.

"Jenny, could you please sort out the bill for the Lady's dry cleaning?" He glanced over at his secretary already starting to back away from the scene, "Once again, ma'am I'm very sorry" She, whoever she was, waved him off with a smile.

"Don't worry" She said again before Jenny caught her attention once again. The toddler waved at him energetically, sending coffee droplets everywhere. Hank waved back in pretty much the same manner before sliding into the car.


	3. Chapter 3

Interviews and Inconviniences

"How do you do that?" Hank asked in utter astonishment as he pushed the door of his office suite open only to find his secretary (slash P.A. if he was truthful) already sitting at her desk, sipping coffee with one hand and typing a letter up with the other. Jenny shot him an amused glance.

"You do forget that I'm x-positive too sometimes, don't you?"

"Teleporter?"

"Keep guessing, sir." She smiled at the continuation of their game. Whilst it was still perfectly legal for Jenny to keep her mutant 'talents' to herself, she was damned if she was going to tell anyone – including her boss what they were ( "They'll have to make me go on that stupid register they're talking about before I give that info up." )

"Is she here yet? Kit Kincaid?" He asked as she walked up to him, calm and composed as ever and smiling warmly at him,

"It's alright, she's running late anyway" Jenny said, her calm confidence contagious. He heaved a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair as he pushed into the room beyond – his own, personal, office, gorgeously picked out in pale cream and the palest of mint greens, sprays of flowers tastefully arranged on nearly every flat surface - laying his files on the table before standing in front of the window, using the reflection on the perfectly cleaned glass to straighten his tie, looking down onto the little black dots of people walking round far below,

"Why do I feel like Darth Vader trying to seduce Skywalker to the dark side?" Hank grouched to himself,

"Because you're not looking at this from the flip side of course" Jenny replied with a roll of her eyes, she had followed him silently into the room, moving to stand behind him as she brushed the lint of his shoulders as he turned round, her manner as brisk and motherly as always, pausing to dump a huge batch of files into his in tray on the way past.

"Which is?"

"I'll leave you a post-it-note when I can think of one" Hank snorted, shaking his head a little, "and relax. What's the worst she can do?"

"Other than run screaming in the opposite direction?" He asked dryly,

"Pro-mutant, Doctor McCoy" A clipped accent said from behind him, the words held unmistakable irritation. Hank turned to see Kit Kincaid for the first time. Despite being dressed in a smart grey skirt suit, her rich auburn hair was a flyaway mess, she wore no make up and sky blue eyes were hidden behind thick framed glasses. She looked like she belonged behind the desk of a library rather than any seat of office. "And I've seen things more frightening than _you_" She said coolly, eyes flat with dislike as she looked over him in the brief silence that followed, "I believe we have an appointment?" She prompted.

"Yes, please, take a seat" He gestured graciously to the chair in front of him. "Jen-"

"Coffee, black, three sugars, I know" His secretary smiled at him before turning to the other woman, "will you like something to drink?"

"I'm fine, thank you" Kit smiled at Laura politely before it fell away when she turned to Hank once more. "I must apologise for being late. Someone, quite literally, ran into me this morning and I came out a little worse for wear." She said, her quiet words holding a sharpness that Hank hadn't expected. He looked at her a moment before guilt came crashing in,

"That was you?"

"Yes."

"You just looked…different before." He cleared his throat, picking up her (rather impressive) C.V. "Was that your daughter with you?" He asked, attempting friendly conversation. She looked at him for a few seconds more than was strictly comfortable, her expression blank and flat, so incredibly far removed from the woman Hank had drenched with coffee that he wondered for a second if this wasn't her twin playing some cruel joke – one quick glance at her file (thoughtfully set out open for him by Jenny) confirmed that no, she was an only child.

"Hardly. Can we keep this short, Dr McCoy?" She asked, taking a seat opposite him. "We both know I don't want to be here, no doubt you don't want me anywhere _near_ your department-" She held up a hand. "-I know my reputation. You've been asked to convince me to come here and I see no reason to make your life hell." The first, genuine, smile skittered across her face. "Yet."

"So…?"

"So I'll work in whatever section, wherever it is you want me. I don't care if I'm in charge of stapling things to other things as long as I get the pay rise I was promised." Hank rocked back in his seat at her words, smiling briefly at Jenny as coffee was brought in.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" Jenny asked Kit, breaking the tense silence. Hank refused to feel irritated when Kit gave his secretary a smile that could only be described as kind.

"No, thank you, we're nearly finished here anyway." She murmured a reply. Hank didn't miss it when Jenny gave him a questioning glance that lasted all of a second and a half before she left, silently closing the door behind her.

"If you've been promised a pay rise, I'll make sure admin gives you a job that makes you earn it." He said sternly, having enough of her attitude. There was only so much generosity he was willing to exercise.

"Fine." Kit said quietly, dropping her piercing gaze for the first time to smooth her hand over her apparently untameable hair. "When do I start, Mr Secretary?"

"Tomorrow. I'll get admin to send you your schedule tonight."

"Thank you." She stood up and offered her hand. Hank took it slowly, careful not to crush it and surprised at the delicacy of her grip. If handshakes really were a way of telling someone's character then Kit Kincaid wasn't as tough as she seemed. He watched her leave with something approaching mild shock. Almost as soon as the door closed behind her Jenny slipped in.

"So? Is she Satan's child?" The Secretary asked before he smile faded away. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm? What? Oh I'm fine." Hank took off his glasses. "Ever get the feeling that someone you've just met is going to be a bigger pain in the derrier than you could ever think possible?"

"Surely she's not that bad."

"I have my suspicions. She's just so...so..."

"Like you?" Jenny supplied, managing to say it with a straight face,

"Difficult" Hank frowned, "is what I was going to say" He lifted his chin as she leaned over the table and tapped it,

"You should pay more attention"

"Yes? Well I know another reason why the call her 'the Cobra'." Hank pulled a face.

"And that is?"

"She spits poison."

* * *

"You are early"

"The operation has to go ahead _now_"

"Why the sudden rush?"

"There's been a…complication"

"Aah, you mean-"

"Yes. She's in the way"

"Then it may be simpler to remove her from the picture"

"Whatever, I just want her gone"

"As you wish madam"


	4. Chapter 4

On First days and Frays

This was _not_ something he was looking forward too. Hank leaned, striving for nonchalance, against the wall opposite the door that would lead to one of the offices that he was _apparently_ in charge of. There was yelling come from the inside.

"I'm just…going to…see if…" Jen, bless her self-protecting little heart, mumbled off into silence and hurried away down the corridor. Hank barely resisted the urge to call her a coward although, in all honesty, he couldn't say he blamed her, he'd rather be in his own office, in the meeting he was supposed to be having rather than facing this…maybe there would be coffee in his office whilst the meeting was happening, coffee and those little cakes that Jen bought from somewhere with cinnamon and little sugar sprinkles. His attention was snapped back to the real world (which was unfortunately devoid of caffeine and other things that make you hyper thus far) as the door to the office slammed open and a rather frightened intern staggered out underneath a pile of papers and files.

"What's going on in there?" Hank asked as he pushed away from the door. The intern _actually_ yelled in surprise, dropping the massive stack of papers, and stammering a little as they spilled everywhere in a rather dramatic and pretty paper version of a ballet.

"She's insane, Mr McCoy, why on _Earth_ –" The intern stopped, already down on his knees trying to pick up the papers. "She's yelling at _everyone_, even Roger! Haven't you heard about the reputation she's got?" He babbled aimlessly onwards about the evils of the 'she' as he gathered the papers and scuttled away down the corridor. Hank watched him go, cleaning his glasses on the edge of his tie (an old habit that Ororo, his good friend Storm, had absolutely hated) before replacing them on the bridge of his nose.

"O-kay." He murmured and went inside. The room was…busy for the most part. People were rushing around, it seemed like everyone was talking all at once, yelling at each other to pass things or throw stuff, catch things or move them along. Hank hadn't seen things moving this busily since…well. Ever. And in the centre of it all stood Kit Kincaid, she seemed to be the eye of the not-so-proverbial storm. She was stood at a desk, her back to the window, as files were constantly shifted to and from her desk, pushing her flyaway hair out of her face clumsily as she answered questions from a ring of constantly changing people around her. Hank started to pick out the conversation as he moved closer to her.

"-es, it should be on the left. No, don't be silly, it's in a green folder, send it off with whatsisname, him, that one – For gods sake! It's a simple question. Where the hell does this go?" Kit almost yelled, waving a file in someone's face.

"No that's enough!" Hank pushed forward, breaking the circle of people.

"Finally! You're here!" Kit moved towards him, advancing as if _he_ was the one in the wrong. "Mr McCoy, why have you left your office to go to rack and ruin? The organisation down here's a disgra-"

"There's someone outside." Hank turned at the sound of a new voice. It was a man he'd hired years ago now, a telepath of minimal ability who also had the ability to look into the future for just a few seconds. He stood now with a slightly blank expression that became a horrified grimace before he yelled. "GUN!"

"Down! Everybody get under cover!" Hank roared at the office, grabbing the nearest person and shoving the, down as fast as he could, covering the body with his own – X-men training taking over as the world suddenly shattered around them. No one screamed, it was amazing but no one screamed. The only noise was the gun in the distance and the sound of things breaking – glass, desks, chairs, filing cabinets.

"First day at work and I'm trying to be assassinated." Kit murmured, quite calmly, looking up at Hank from the cage of his arms. "What an incentive to be perky and on time." She added dryly, Hank found himself barking a laugh. Here they were amongst the gunfire and flying debris and she was trying to be funny. "Shouldn't we be talking about insurance cover here?"

"Miss Kincaid-"

"Kit."

"Whatever. Just…hush for a moment, please." He smiled down at her and her expression became…not soft or warm or welcoming by any meaning of the words but…less hostile. That in itself was an improvement. She was quite pretty in her own strange way when she wasn't snarling…or negotiating an even _bigger_ pay rise, lying there with her hair spread in a nimbus around her head, clutching a file to her chest far more protectively than to him.

"So. Getting back to this issue of disorganisation…" She murmured, totally ignoring his request for quiet. Hank looked down at her. He'd met politicians like this, one's who just would not know when to give it up.

"I _could_ just fire you." He said, feeling like the lowest in the world for pulling out that ace. She looked up at him and something about her expression shifted…Hank took off his glasses and blinked a couple of times when he realised that she'd let the corners of her mouth turn upwards in the coldest smile he had seen in a long, long while. But it was still a smile. And she shifted. In a …most interesting way beneath him, Hank tried to ignore it.

"For what? Increasing productivity?" She asked

"For disruption in the workplace, for outright bullying-"

"I was _not_ bullying." Kit interrupted, her grip on the files was so tight now that her knuckles were starting to go white and the card was wrinkling but her face remained impassive. "I don't know where anything is, I asked repeatedly. No one seemed to know, I was loosing my temper." She shrugged. Hank stared down at her. It was a perfectly reasonable set of sentences strung together just so. It made sense. It also got her out of trouble, especially considering they were this close Hank could look into her eyes and see absolutely no hint of a lie.

"You keep control of that temper, Miss Kincaid, or you're out." He said sternly in his best 'boss' voice. "Understand?"

"Certainly, Mr McCoy. Would you mind getting off me now?" Kit asked calmly. Hank realised the sound of things braking had ceased and around them people were rising to their feet, brushing the debris off and helping out the younger interns who just weren't used to it. Hank sprang away from her as if she was on fire, covering it by brushing his suit off, shedding plaster dust and tiny fragments of apparently shatter-proof glass. Someone slapping his shoulder in a friendly gesture made him jump.

"When are we gonna get that office with the bullet proof glass you promised?" One of his employee's smiled at him shakily on his way past. Hank smiled back and watched as the older gentleman tottered off in the direction of the bathrooms and was noisily sick.

"Apparently we had." Hank knelt down as something in the debris caught his eye, batting away smouldering paper and bits of desk to reveal a bullet that was glowing red hot against the carpet.

"Does this happen often?" Kit asked, still standing close to him. Hank looked up at her, wondering why she was sticking so close – and why she was still clutching the file to her chest, only to see her shaking slightly. She was afraid, she was _actually_ afraid – Hank refused to note this as an example that she was humanoid. He stood up and pried the file away from her hands, though her fingers stayed in roughly the same shape. He curled his hands around hers briefly before gesturing to one of the more veteran members of his staff.

"Please take Miss Kincaid for coffee, make sure there's plenty of sugar in it" He smiled, just a little bitterly. "Welcome to Government, Kit."

~*~

"The attempt was clumsy."

"No, really?" Sarcasm shot back from the shadows and the speaker flinched.

"It will not happen again."

"No. It won't." There was the oddly insectile sound of a silencer on a gun and the speaker collapsed to the floor in the circle of light…_things_ crawled from the shadow to claim the body as a meal, devouring it with morbid enjoyment.

"Now what?" Sarcasm again, the voices were becoming distinguishable.

"Now, I believe we take matters into our own hands."


	5. Chapter 5

Of Mysteries and Malice

"What do you think, Scott?" Hank asked, watching as the leader of the X-men turned one of the bullets they had collected from the site over in his palm.

"Unsure at this stage. I'll get it to the labs, have Jean look it over, get back to you when I know something." Scott said, all quiet confidence that they _would_ find something. He was in full 'leader' mode and Hank couldn't help smiling, though his heart tugged slightly…he truly _did_ miss being part of the x-men sometimes. He missed the security of knowing where he was and that he was surrounded by loving family. Here, in government, he was at the head of a huge operation, taking risks, making mistakes and irritating people that he shouldn't really be irritating.

"How have you been, Scott?" He found himself asking. Scott jolted slightly, as if he was physically being pulled out of his leader role and his face softened into his usual, slightly shy, boyish smile.

"I'm good. Jean and Ororo said to say hi, ask after you and tell you not to forget supper on Sunday." Hank could _tell_ when Scott was rolling his eyes behind the visor.

"Tell them I'm quite well and I promise to bring the ice cream" Hank found his eyes straying, watching his staff in the rather rehearsed role of moving from one damaged office into another. Kit Kincaid was there, sifting through rubble and debris for anything that could be rescued, her voice – rather piercing – kept to a low murmur as she spoke to a few others, her expression still remained guarded, closed off but she looked somehow…gentler. Scott's voice faded back into Hanks awareness.

"-and my mother is the Queen of Tarts."

"Pardon?" Hank looked back at his friend who was grinning at him quizzically.

"Never mind. So, who is she?" Scott nodded at Kit, dropping his voice so as not to embarrass his friend.

"Oh just someone new to the department."

"Hmm, a redhead. She's a firebrand then?" Scott asked.

"That's not Red, that's auburn and yes. She is." Scott laughed, aware that Hanks attention had drifted away already, and patted his friends shoulder.

"I'll make sure someone gives you a call when we know something. See you later Hank."

"Thank you for stopping by, Scott." Hank shook his friends hand. "Means a lot to me."

"No worries." Scott nodded, pocketing the bullet before making his way out. Hank moved towards Kit, picking up one of the boxes from the floor.

"How are you doing?" He asked her, as kindly as he could. Kit looked up and smiled tightly at him before looking away again. "Anything I could do to help?" Hank offered quietly.

"I don't know, you could actually do your job rather than making Jenny do it for you – she's completely overworked by the way, did you know that? - and help out around here? Considering it's _your_ department." Kit said, her words clipped and tight as if she was incredibly angry and trying to control it. Hank glanced around, catching a few sympathetic eyes as he did so, running a hand over the back of his neck, caught in between a plethora of awkward feelings.

"Not actually what I meant…anything else whilst I'm here?"

"No, Mr McCoy, that's all for now." She turned away slightly, sweeping off a pile of plasterboard from the desk she was working on in order to make more space. Hank had the distinct impression that he'd just been dismissed…by someone he employed.

"Wonderful." He practically barked, full of impotent temper, turning away to pick up a phone, punching in the extension number for his secretary almost hard enough to break it. "Excuse me whilst I melt from the acid of your words." He added under his breath as he listened to the ringer, or at least he _thought_ it was under his breath before he caught her nearly whispered reply.

"Half-melted is better than what you've got now."

"Have I _offended_ you somehow?" Hank asked, putting the receiver down and turning to face her. Kit straightened out, shoving her hair out of her face.

"Of course you haven't." She said scornfully. "Don't be foolish."

"Then _what_ is your problem?"

"My problem?" Kit repeated quietly. "_My_ problem? My problem, Mr McCoy, is that I've been shunted across from one department, where I finally had everything organised, into this sea of chaos in which I get shot at _and_ which happens to be, apparently, directed by…you." It was the way she said it, the scorn that really cut in.

"Me?" Hank blinked, eyes narrowing. "And what, precisely, is wrong with that?" He started to brace himself for an anti-mutant attack and was entirely surprised when she leaned one hand against the desk and one against her hip – a look that, in other circumstances, could be called provocative…if only her expression wasn't attempting to melt his face off it would have been very attractive indeed.

"Genius as you are reputed to be." She said flatly, her tone belying that she thought so. "Your filing system is…well, I've seen three year olds do better and –"

"Three year olds?"

"Quite." Hank goggled at her, there wasn't any other word for it. "Mr McCoy, as far as that goes you started at the bottom and it's all been downhill since then." She drawled. Hank couldn't help himself.

"This from the woman who, on her first day, has managed to create discord, chaos and general panic?"

"This from someone who doesn't have the organisational skills of a flea, any advice on that score, Mr Secretary?" She asked, hands on hips now.

"No, and you know I'm not in charge of this-" He waved a hand at the office. "But talking of advise, anybody who told you to be yourself was giving you the _worst_ advice I ever heard!" Hank made a gesture of irritation and nearly laughed when she mimicked the gesture.

"Yes? Well look in the mirror! And whilst you're doing it, why don't you step a couple of inches closer to the razor you're using to shave with – oh sorry, you don't shave do you?" Kit snapped back. A curl of hair had fallen into her eyes and Hank resisted the urge to reach out and push it out of the way for her…it just…_hung there_…distracting him whilst he was trying to focus on the argument. Well. It wasn't an argument, it was an immature slanging match…but Hank was surprised to find he was enjoying himself.

"You know, people like you are the reason for valium." He snapped back.

"It's so good that you can be so honest about your drug addiction, tell me Mr McCoy, did you wake up on the wrong side of the stupid tree this morning? Or was it hitting every branch on the way down that tipped you over the edge?" She had raised her voice slightly.

"Why don't you open your mind and shut your mouth, both are empty and you could do with learning something here!" Hank yelled, aware that they were being watched again. He was trying not to smile.

"How about a bit less talk and a lot more shut the hell up from _you_?" Kit replied. Hank had to get out of there before he started laughing and ruined this weird game that seemed to have sprang up between them.

"And for Gods sake tie your hair back!" Hank snapped before slamming the door shut behind him. He was perturbed when, the next day, Kit Kincaid appeared with a perfect chignon, every hair neatly in place.

"What are you smiling about?" Jenny asked as she laid out the days schedule as well as a large cup of steaming coffee.

"Hmm? Smiling?" Hank looked up at her from the figures he was wading his way through.

"You know I think that shouting match you had with Kincaid?"

"You heard about that?"

"I think people in France heard about that. You two really went for it. Some of the interns were ready to call the cops." Jenny smiled at him. "And the award for Mr Maturity of the year goes to…" She left it hanging, gesturing to Hank.

"I know but it was fun. Talk about good stress relief."

"Are you sure she felt the same way about it?" Jenny asked, raising both eyebrows. Hank paused looking up at her.

"Kit Kincaid's a big girl, I'm sure she's fine."

"Of course." Jenny said dryly. "She's fine."

* * *

"Hey Kit!" Kit turned at the sound of her name, surprised to see Hank McCoy running down the corridor towards her with a long easy lope, Armani jacket flapping behind him.

"Mr McCoy-"

"Hank."

"Yes. What can I do for you?" She asked, quite calmly, as if yesterday had never happened. Hank scanned her face with his eyes as he spoke, watching for any hint of hurt feelings or dismay.

"I wanted to apologise for yesterday, it was immature and-" He stopped as she raised a hand, shouldering her rather huge, rather battered bag a little higher on her shoulder.

"We were _both_ immature yesterday, Mr McCoy, but don't apologise." She looked him right in the eye and – for the brief second their gaze locked – Hank swore he could see a glimmer of humour in her eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow, no doubt." Kit nodded slightly, pulling on her glove before turning away. She was very aware that the secretary for mutant affairs watched her walk the entire length of the corridor and allowed herself the luxury of a small smile, barely resisting the urge to glance back at him. She liked him. She had known that since yesterday, during the yelling when she had nearly burst out laughing. He was a lot of fun, much more so than she had expected…with any luck she might actually _stay_ in his department for a while. She didn't _mean_ to be awkward, but some people were just so _stupid_. Kit was, by now, being jolted and jarred by the rather run down bus that she had to catch in order to get home. A bus ride, a short walk and there would be a hot cup of coffee waiting on the side for her when she got in. Bliss.

She flinched against the sudden blast of cold air – winter was on its way – as the bus doors open and she got off. One of the streetlights flickered overhead as the bus pulled off and Kit sighed, resisting the urge to watch the white mist her breath made curl away into nothingness. It was quite still – other than the usual background noise of cars and buses hurrying in the distance – Kit didn't like it when it was this quiet. She walked a little faster, pulling the collar of her coat up against the chill in the air, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something, just…_something_ didn't feel right. Her eyes darted about, looking into the deep shadows of the alleyways she passed.

"Not again, please, _please_ not again." She whispered a prayer

"Hey, pretty lady." A man in a hooded jacket stepped out in front of her. "Don't scream." Something flashed in the flickering light, something sharp and something that bought the word 'surgical'. "Into the alley." Kit stood her ground, feet frozen to the floor for a moment. The man stepped forward, shoulders hunched forward threateningly. "_Move_!" The scalpel flashed forward and Kit swayed back, looking around in a last ditch attempt to see someone. There was _no-one_ around. His hand closed strongly around her arm, shoving her towards the shadows with enough force to cause something in her shoulder to crunch interestingly.

"You _don't_ want to do this!" Kit hissed desperately as she collided with the back of the wall.

"Oh I think you'll find I really, _really_ do." The man chuckled, following her in. A pigeon, an old, jaded, haggard thing that had seen more sites of the city than anything of its kind would ever want too, alighted on the flickering light and watched the scene unfold below. It was startled by a blood-curdling scream that rent the air – one that caused an even stiller silence to fall after it was over – and so didn't see when Kit walked out of the alleyway, eyes a little wild but not with a hair out of place, and hurried away down the road…a thin, dark trickle oozed from the mouth of the alleyway and into the gutter. In the shadows, faces watched.

"Well, Morecroft, that wasn't one of your more gossamer plans-"

"Robberies go wrong all the time!" One of the voices, clearly much, _much_, younger than the others, whined. "I thought that one would work!"

"Hmm." The eldest voice conceded graciously. "Perhaps a more…personal approach is needed?"

"Arthur. I want to do it." The final voice interrupted. "It's been so long since you've let me kill someone and she's got a whole _pack_ to play with!"

"Very well, Luci, go and play."

"Hee."


	6. Chapter 6

Of Christmas and kisses

(sort of)

was roughly around Christmas time that Hank decided to take a leap into the proverbial unknown. He wasn't sure whether or not she was x-positive but, to him at any rate, that didn't matter, there was something else he really wanted to know. He headed towards the office, smiling and exchanging 'merry Christmas' with the few unfortunates who were still there working. He wasn't surprised to find Kit Kincaid still there, though he was interested to find her on the floor in a near circle of desks in the centre of the room, sitting with her legs nearly curled under her, a cup of coffee by her side, looking more relaxed than he'd seen her in a long time. He found himself smiling, allowing his weight to rest on the doorframe as he folded his arms, watching her.

"What _are_ you exactly, Kit?"

"Er…human? Don't mess me around today, McCoy, I'm running out of places to hide the bodies." She replied without looking up, she hadn't even started at the sound of his voice. Hank raised an eyebrow at her reply, did that answer the x-positive question? Maybe. Though some mutants still classified themselves as 'human' understandably. "Some of us don't have a genius IQ level, what do you _mean_?" She asked, finally looking up though a pink foldered file remained in her hand.

"What's your job description? You're not an attorney, secretary or PA I know that much, it would have been on your CV." He said. It had taken him a while to go through lists of what she might be…other than a pain in the ass. She nodded a little and looked down again at the files she was speed reading her way through, left hand making short hand notes in a book beside her.

"I'm complicated" She murmured, under her breath. Hank had a feeling he hadn't been supposed to hear that but thanks to his superior senses he just about caught it, "I don't _have_ an official job title, I'm just here for the money, boss."

"Brings a whole new meaning to 'Santa's little helper'" Hank mumbled in reply, sighing heavily as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded loosely over his chest, shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows,

"Mm, since when has Santa been Royal blue, covered in fur and dressed in Armani?"

"Since last Christmas, I thought all the elves got the memo?" He snapped back half heartedly, surprised as hell when she laughed out right.

"I'm sure there'll be a message waiting for me at home tomorrow."

"You don't even go home for Christmas?" He asked, folding his arms as he leant against the doorway. She glanced up from the pile of papers she seemed to be aimlessly rifling through, the coffee cup halfway to her mouth as she spoke.

"Bah and humbug, Dr McCoy, the season isn't interested in me and I am not interested in _it_…or any of its pathetic trappings" She said acidly…more acidly than usual. "Besides, I'll go home when I'm good and ready, it's Christmas. I'm not picking up _any_ messages until I'm very, very drunk." Hank had to resist the urge to grin.

"Something tells me you were never kissed under the mistletoe as a girl" He laughed out right at the look she shot him.

"No" She said coldly, "and I don't find myself bothered by being unmolested beneath a sprig of pagan fertility symbology"

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be quite charming when you put your mind to it?" He asked, pushing away from the doorframe, "good grief is that a _smile_?" He asked in surprise. She _barely_ hid it behind a scowl, managing to narrow her eyes as she glanced up at him even though he caught the sparkle of laughter lurking there.

"Put it down to unusual seasonal cheer" She said, the usual acidity in her voice cut with humour. She sighed as she stood up. "Considering it seems I'll get no peace here I might as well go home." She started to gather files together and Hank moved forward to help, surprised when she didn't protest.

"Yes. It's only midnight after all." Hank smiled slightly as she shoved most of the files into a draw and dropped the rest on her desk before shrugging on a thick winter coat and picking up a surprisingly large, battered bag from the back of her chair. She walked towards him, fighting off another one of those amused smiles and stopped when she reached him, blocking the doorway.

"Are you waiting me for to come up with a clever quip because I'm all out." She said tiredly. Hank merely grinned at her and glanced upward.

"Care to indulge in a little pagan ritual?" He asked quietly and – to his utter surprise – she blushed bright red and started to stammer.

"I, um, I-I-"

"Am I interrupting?" Jenny asked from somewhere behind him. Hank watched the blush for as long as he could before looking at his secretary. She was stood, framed by light, and smiling slightly.

"No. I was just leaving." Kit said, speaking faster than either of them had ever heard, and slipped past him. Hank watched her leave with utter astonishment.

"Want to explain that?" Jenny asked. Hank grinned at her.

"I think I've finally figured out a way to shut Kit Kincaid up." He said, starting to laugh. Jenny smiled and walked forward, smoothing out the lapels on his jacket with that odd motherly affection.

"McCoy, you know how much I adore you?"

"Yes." Hank said cautiously, detecting the faintest traces of dark humour in her voice.

"Then you'll fully understand my meaning when I say you are _still_ not paying enough attention to Kincaid." Jenny smiled at his suddenly confused expression before patting his cheek, almost pityingly. "You know, for a genius sometimes you take a while to cotton on sometimes." She turned away and walked over to David Lyle, who was holding open the door of the elevator for her. Hank was surprised when Lyle kissed her cheek in a more than friendly manner. From then on Hank _did_ pay more attention. He'd never noticed before how much _Kit_ reached out to him. Gentle touches on the arm, either to get his attention or guide the way, how she deflected the strength of her harsh words or acid comments with little smiles or hard work. She seemed to be constantly catching him, either by buoying him up with a battle of wits that she graciously allowed him to win nine times out of ten or by heading off someone else who was trying to make his life hard.

"If you don't do something about this, I swear I'm going to beat you with the first piece of office equipment that comes to hand." Jenny said as Christmas drew even nearer. "I hear death by post- it note is quite agonising."

"Do something about what?" Hank asked, feigning innocence. Jenny dropped a stack of papers onto his desk and glared at him, a look that was utterly ruined by the felt reindeer antlers on a headband she was currently sporting.

"Goodnight, Mr Secretary." The Secretary sighed heavily as she headed off for the evening, turning to look at him over the top of her glasses. "By the way, there's a couple of documents there that need to get to Miss Kincaid once you're done with them, A.S.A.P. if you catch my drift." Hank smirked and shook his head, sitting back as he threw his feet up onto the desk.

"A.S.A.P." He murmured to himself, concentrating on the files in his hands. It wasn't long until his eyes slid sideways to the paperwork on his desk.


	7. Chapter 7

Of melting and moments

"This is a very stupid idea." Hank murmured to himself, fingernails tapping against his knee nervously.

"No, it's romantic." David Lyle, the constantly straight faced body guard, replied from the front seat of the car. The Secretary for Mutant Affairs stared at him via the rear view mirror. "Trust me. Jenny's been very clear on what is considered romantic." Lyle continued.

"For example?"

"Visiting someone unexpectedly during the Christmas holidays is romantic. Sending someone an AK37 for Christmas _isn't_." Hank snorted a laugh but Lyle, as ever, remained straight faced. The doctor could never work out if his body guard was slowly but surely winding him up. "I'm given to understand the correct expression for this situation is 'go get her', sir."

"Please, Lyle, stop talking you're only making it worse." The driver – Oscar Crockett – sighed, almost under his breath. Hank laughed and got out of the car before more advice could be given to him. It was starting to snow. Perfect, he was going to arrive looking like a half drowned cat. He shuffled his way through the snow, pulling the collar of his jacket up as high as it would go (about half an inch) though he was quietly pleased that he was managing to see the snow _before_ it was turned into grey brown sludge. The door was innocent enough with its half battered holly wreath…a hopeful little symbol in the dark and Hank found himself ringing the bell before he was really ready for it. The door opened, revealing a young boy in his late teens, hair stinking out at odd angles and his face smeared with what looked like Christmas pudding…what Hank _hoped_ was Christmas pudding.

"Hello, I'm looking for Kit Kincaid?" Hank said in a quick rush, sounding about three years old. The boy smiled and gestured him in.

"Come on, you're just in time, everyone's sugar rush is kicking in." Before Hank could ask any more questions the boy bounded off down a long corridor and darted into a room on the right. He smiled to himself and followed inside, careful to knock his snow covered boots off on the wall before entering and walked down the corridor as noises filtered through the walls – laughing, singing, screaming and yelling, it sounded like a playground. Hank stuck his head around the door and spotted Kit almost instantly. She was as he had never seen her. Smiling, happy, giggling girlishly as a wreath of tinsel and painted paper stars perched at a jaunty angle on her head started to slip over one eye. She was clapping in time to what sounded like an Elvis CD in the background as several small children played musical chairs, a toddler on her lap trying to copy the rhythm with a serious expression. Older teenagers – the eldest looking about sixteen – were grinning, half watching the fun and half busy setting out a table covered in tissue paper and baskets of treats. Sneakily Kit reached over and turned off the CD play, giggling as absolute chaos broke out amongst the little ones – some of them obvious mutants – in a fight for a seat to stay in the game.

"Kelly, don't hit Jerry with that! Tommy you lost fair and square, baby, come sit with us" She patted the spare bit of floor beside her, glancing over to the table behind them and spotting-

"McCoy! What are you doing here?" She asked breathlessly, standing up with the toddler balanced on her hip in one fluid movement. She waved at one of the older children, "Jack? Take over would you, please, and try to make sure no one gets killed" She spoke as she picked her way over the crowd of kids sat on the floor around her, shooing Hank back out into the hallway, "w-what are you doing here?" She asked, voice a breathless whisper and her expression more flustered than he'd ever seen,

"Well…I was coming along baring Christmas cheer and paperwork but I don't think I brought enough for everyone" He lifted a bag of candy he'd brought from the local store, unsure of what she'd like he'd brought a little of everything along with the briefcase full of paperwork. "I thought you lived alone?" He smiled at her, glancing at the toddler on her hip. The little girl grinned back at him, a huge beaming smile that Hank recognised instantly. This was the little girl that he had met the first time he'd met Kit…and thrown coffee over the both of them.

"You look just like Tommy but you're all blue and smell nice." The little girl said, head tilted to one side as she contemplated him.

"_Layla_" Kit hissed. The little girl shrugged her shoulders looking totally unrepentant, squirming to be let down, "Um" Kit set her down, watching her toddle off, arms folded over her waist as she turned back to Hank, "I-"

"Is he coming in to play or _what_?" A handful of children leant around the door with big grins and giggles, Kit blushed not taking her eyes off Hank. He took the prerogative.

"Er, I think perhaps it'd best if I-" He was cut off, looking down in surprise at her hand touching his arm.

"No please...I think the kids would like you to stay" Kits words were greeted by various enthusiastic noises.

"Well, I'd be delighted." Hank said in rather distant tones, "that is of course-"

"Luke! Fetch an extra chair! Tilda? Do we have enough to go round?" Kit, still blushing lightly, tugged him back into the room, "everyone this is Hank McCoy, a friend of mine, _so be nice to him_" She growled warningly, earning a few angelic grins in return, "if I see one puff of itching powder…yeah I'm looking at you Jonah." She warned, holding out a hand palm up. "Hand it over, bucko."

"Aw man." A boy with feathers instead of hair and no eyelashes of any kind, sulkily handed over what looked like a pepper pot. "She's only like this 'cos _you're_ here." He stuck his tongue out at Hank before darting off.

"What did I say about being nice?!" Kit yelled after him, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking awkward as hell as Hank sat down.

"I'll be nice." Layla had returned, armed with a hairbrush. Kit covered her face with one hand and left the room, leaving Hank to fend for himself for a moment.

"Sooo…" A boy, the one who had opened the door, smirked at her as she walked into the room.

"Don't start, Luke it's Christmas." She snapped pouring herself a large amount of eggnog from the carton kept on top of the cupboards, out of the reach of small, curious hands. She gestured to Hank questioningly, who nodded and smiled, looking down at Layla as she reached for him and bounced on her toes.

"Me!" Layla yelled finally. Hank laughed and picked her up, setting her on his hip easily. The hairbrush instantly found its way to his hair and Hank was surprised to find that Layla was really quite a good hairdresser.

"Thank you." He said to Kit, who was watching both him, Layla and the boy called Luke like a hawk. "What _is_ all this, Kit? Or rather, who are all these kids? Yours?"

"Oh thanks, like I could give birth to thirty kids" The usual acidity in her voice was dulled by a slight smile in the corner of her mouth, "thanks Luke" She murmured as he walked past with a gigantic yawn, indicating that he was going to bed and would probably round up the others as he went. "Some of them are brothers and sisters of mine, my parents died…last year…" She frowned, looking away as she sipped her drink. "The rest are orphans and runaways, mainly. We started off with one or two and now…" She smiled, glancing up at the myriad of photo's that lined every available surface as well as most of the walls before her expression turned a little sour. "Mutant babies aren't really very welcome anywhere" She said, a sadness creeping into to settle along side the anger in her expression. She pushed past him into the relative chaos of the living room. Some of the children were going against expectation and filing out quietly while others were certainly not going without a fight.

"Lend a hand willya?!" Luke asked, nodding at the ceiling, as he tried to pry one of the youngest from a Christmas tree. Hank stared at him blankly before looking upwards.

"Touch me and I'll bite you!" A girl snapped at him from where she clung to the ceiling by her hands and knees, her blonde braids dangling towards the floor.

"_Alice_." Kit snapped, using the exact same tone that she had when they'd argued."

"Oh al_right_." The little girl sighed and just fell from the ceiling, landing in Hanks free arm before he set her down and she walked off with her nose in the air.

"Is that the last of them?" Luke, looking hassled and tired, asked, a hand to his forehead as he glanced around.

"I believe this one is." Hank handed over Layla who only protested a little, waving the hairbrush around as she scrubbed at her eyes.

"Not sleepy!" Layla declared.

"Of course you're not. You're just helping me put everyone else to bed." Luke rolled his eyes, winked at Hank and left the room.

"Please, sit. Anywhere that there isn't a sticky patch is great." Kit offered, setting her drink down on one of the paper and tinsel strewn tables and tidying up half heartedly.

"Weren't they up awfully late? It's well past midnight?" Hank asked, looking round for somewhere safe to perch.

"I wasn't here for Christmas yesterday so they decided to have it a day later…I didn't have the heart to send them off to bed. But Jeremy _was_ falling asleep in the custard. Again." Kit's voice held more warmth than Hank had ever heard before. He watched as she flopped down into the still warm cushions of one of the sofas before he made his way over and sat down beside her, pleased when she didn't bite his head off for it.

"You're very kind, to take them all in." He said in quiet admiration. "Have you ever heard of Xaviers school?"

"For the Gifted? Yes." She pulled a face. "I keep meaning to look up the address but what with trying to keep my job pinned down as well as shopping, cleaning, school uniforms, blah, blah, blah…" She trailed off into a sigh, letting her head fall against the back of the worn out sofa, and Hank resisted the urge to laugh, didn't she know him at all?

"I've got connections with the school. I'll see what I can do."

"Really?" She raised her head, something like elation panic on her face. "You could do that?"

"For some of the older children certainly. I don't know that Xavier's is equipped for some of the younger children-"

"That's fine, I mean, that's great!" She babbled, practically bouncing in her seat as she turned to face him. "I mean, I wouldn't want to send some of the toddlers there anyway, they're too – but the older kids oh _man_ that'd be just-" She cut herself off mid flow as if she was suddenly aware that she was babbling. "That would be wonderful." She breathed, looking into his face for a moment that was a few seconds too long before she glanced away, shoving her hair out of her face. "Jonah, get that mistletoe _away_ from me young man and get to _bed_." Kit said in a voice full of ice. The child appeared, like a shadow being reviled with a huge clump of mistletoe in his hand. He just grinned and threw the mistletoe at them before dashing off. Kit went to catch the clump but her hands were blocked though by one large furry blue one.

"Rather a forthright and honest lot you seem to have." Hank said laughingly, looking down at the cheerful little bundle. He looked up at Kit with a questioning – and slightly challenging – smile, twizzling the little sprig between thumb and fore finger, "so…"

"No" She said firmly, one hand out to give emphasis to her words, "_no_-"

"What are you afraid of?" He asked quietly under the noise. He hadn't actually _meant_ for her to have such an…avid reaction to the question. Eyes narrowed, she reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands, dragging him towards her.

"_Not one word_" She hissed before kissing him. It started off hard, her anger making her lips a little less pliable than usual but Hank wrapped his arms around her waist and to his amazement…she melted in his arms, kissing him back as if he was her long lost love, tentative and soft, "right" She said breathlessly when they broke at last, "um…" She looked up into his eyes hesitantly and Hank saw all her usual poison fall away in a few seconds before she glanced away, "_Laura!_ Stop doing that it isn't nice! You're supposed to be in bed missy!" She untangled herself from Hank and moved away to scoop up the young changling – she had looked like a lamp stand until Kit scooped her up in her arms. Hank watched after her as she herded little girl out the room.

"Strange" He murmured under his breath, shaking his head,

"You gotta take Kit with a pinch of salt" Luke said as he meandered back into the room, seemingly completely unaware that he was in his mid-teens and walking around in a pair of Spiderman pyjamas that were way too short for him. "She's mostly all bark and no bite whatsoever. She's a softie." He grinned at Hank before it faded and he shrugged one shoulder, "Look, all I'm tryin' to say is she's not as bad as she comes across right? If she thinks you're her friend she'll bend over backwards to protect you" He offered a drink from the tray he carried. "And she likes you."

"She does?" Hank grinned and the boy rolled his eyes skyward, opening his mouth to reply only to close it with a click again as Kit walked back into the room.

"Luke? Oh is that why there's been a few escapee's?" She asked.

"I was getting changed for bed! I need milk." He stuck his tongue out at her, leaving Hank and Kit in awkward silence to fetch his milk, he sniggered as he walked back through the room, glass of milk in hand and closed the door behind him. Kit moved over to where Hank was still sat and stood behind him.

"Don't think I didn't notice you too, young man." She said firmly, laying a hand on Hanks shoulder. "Bedtime. I mean it." One of the baubles on the Christmas tree detached and floated out of the room…Hank got the distinct impression that, even though it didn't make a sound, it was swearing. He realised that Kit still hadn't moved her hand from his shoulder and felt something warm his heart, reaching up to pat her hand without really thinking about it. She jumped, as if not expecting him to respond, and looked down at him, first startled and then with a hesitantly warm smile, moving round to sit beside him once again. Hank wrinkled his nose and reached out, gently smoothing back her hair. "No one…" She bit her lip before carrying on. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"What about? The kids, the Christmas party or the fact you have actual, human emotions?" He asked, a teasing smile on his face. She pursed her lips at him, though he could see that it was a cover for a smile of her own, "I will breathe nary a word" He promised solemnly.

"So…it'd be as if tonight never happened?" She asked quietly, looking up at him with a strange expression.

"I guess not" He replied, a silent questioning expression on his face before she moved hesitantly towards him, her lips pressing against his own, so tenderly, so softly that Hanks heart squeezed inside his chest. He returned the kiss –feeling her melt against him in almost abandon - until she pulled away, blushing slightly as she smoothed a hand over her insane hair, seemingly made worse by the sticky gold stars that decorated it.

"Well then. I'd best get to tidying up this mess." She said briskly.

"And…and I'd best be going. It's later after all." Hank sighed, reluctantly pulling himself out of the nice warm seat and tying not to think about how very, very nice it would be just to stay there. For the night. Or longer -

"Hm, you bore candy and paperwork. It's like you're Santa." Kit said with her usual dryness. Somehow it didn't cut the same as it had before and the doctor found himself smiling at her warmly. "Um, I'll see you to the door." She blushed, shoving her hair back as she brushed past him, leading him down the photo lined corridor once again. "Have you got everything?" She asked as he made his way out of the door.

"Coat, briefcase, yep."

"Well, then…goodnight, Dr McCoy." She said, the same stiff formality and shield of poison returning in the blink of an eye, as if nothing at all had happened. Hank leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently, instantly melting her self protective methods and she looked up at him with glittering eyes.

"Goodnight, Miss Kincaid." He walked away, refusing to let himself look back and heaving a sigh as he heard the door close behind him. He hunched his shoulders against the large, soft flakes of snow and was unsurprised when his car pulled up in front of him.

"So, how'd it go?" Lyle asked once he'd slid inside, fingers tingling in the sudden rush of heat.

"Not too bad." Hank smiled, glancing out the window to see Kit watching him from behind the glass of her own window, looking somehow small and warm. She waved to him and Hank waved back as the car pulled away. "Not too bad at all."


	8. Chapter 8

Of Revelations and Rushing

"And tell Trask that I need-"

"In your _face_! YES!" Hank poked his head round the corner of a doorway in time to see Kit grinning widely at her laptop, hands waving in the air above her head in a minor victory dance before she spotted him, "er" Flushing bright red she looked down, clearing her throat as shuffled some papers, "anything I can help you with, Dr McCoy?" She asked in her usual brittle tones. Hank tried _very_ hard to bite back a grin as he shared a glance with Jenny who nodded and wandered off as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"Good news I presume?" He asked in a voice rich with laughter. She didn't look up at him but he could see how brightly she was blushing none the less as her fingers danced over the keys of her laptop.

"Davy managed to get into Harvard" She murmured, "there was, um, something of an issue with that. He carried the X-gene in a rather…obvious manner"

"And Davy is?"

"Oh, one of the kids" She waved a hand dismissively before managing a slight scowl as she looked up at him, "was there a reason you're here _other_ than to spy on me?"

"I wasn't here for you at all actually, I was on my way to my office for a rather important meeting that you are now making me late for." He shrugged, hands in his pockets and starting to smile as he looked at her. He was starting to notice the little nuances in her expression, the little tiny details in her mask that gave her away…right now Kits eyes were sparkling like diamonds.

"So? Run along then." She shooed him away, her mask cracking slightly as the corner of her mouth twitched up. Checking over his shoulder to see if Jenny really _had_ wandered away – she sort of had, his secretary was waiting for him at the next corner – Hank bounded into the room, dropped a kiss on that little up turned corner and bounded out again, heading for Jenny, leaving himself just enough time to catch the outright shock on Kits face before he carried on.

"So." He said to Jenny as she pushed away from the wall she was leaning on, unable to scrape off the big grin on his face.

"Trask?"

"Ah, yes, I remember. I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to…"

* * *

"No." Hank laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Your logic is flawed, sir." He shook his head now, aware that Jenny was stood just behind him trying not to laugh. The secretary in front of him looked from both of them with a deep frown and a slightly humiliated blush, aware that he had just made an ass of himself.

"But surely if a mutant has _more_ limbs they can do the job quicker and should be paid less." He stated, rather desperately.

"Surely if a mutant has more limbs they can do the job quicker ergo they'll be paid less anyway because they won't be working as long as someone with the usual number. Mr Black, I suggest you go away and work through the logic." Hank said, as kindly as he could manage, leaning forward to pick up a card. "Here, ring this number, they'll help you get a more accurate figure." Mr Black took the card, his expression a little shocked and more than a little distant as he stood up.

"Thank you, Mr McCoy. For your time." Black nodded and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. Hank turned to look at Jenny who was doing a bad impression of hiding her laughter behind one of the files.

"Oh dear." She managed eventually.

"Quite. Poor Mr Black." Hank sighed and shook his head, turning back to his desk, making notes in his diary and calling up the schedule for the last few hours of the day on his monitor. They'd all had to make changes and elbow room, everyone in government, everything from social care to work pay, health benefits and various laws…it was a tricky, fragile business but Hank had faith that things were slowly but surely getting done in the right way.

"Here, don't forget you've got the gala on Friday." Jenny leaned across, depositing the file on his lap and typed in the date and time in the appropriate box on the laptop, obscuring Hanks view for a moment. Hank opened his mouth, about to comment on the fact that neither of them seemed to mind being up close and personal with the other, when his mobile went off, screaming the theme tune to the old Batman and Robin cartoon.

"'scuse me." He reached under Jenny and retrieved the phone. "Hello?"

"Mr McCoy?"

"Kit? How did you get my num-"

"Not important." Kit interrupted sharply. Hank would have felt irritated normally but there was something in her tone, some note that he'd never heard before. He sat up, gently pushing Jenny away as gently but firmly as he could manage so he could lean forward, concentrating with a frown. He could hear sirens in the background, people speaking in hurried voices.

"What's wrong?"

"They've attacked the house this time. They blew it up, Hank! I'm waiting for the ambulance-"

"Are you hurt?"

"It's not me." For the first time since he picked up the phone Hank heard Kits voice crack as she sobbed. "It's _Layla_. Oh Hank-" On the other end of the phone Kit pulled in an enormous, shaking breath. "Could you come here and watch the kids, please? I've no one else to ask and Luke's terribly shaken and I need to go in the ambulance with her and-" She was striving to sound composed but her voice shook as she babbled.

"I'll be right there." Hank hung up and reached for his jacket. "Something's happened at Kit's place, I need to get there now, would you order a car?" He asked in low, urgent tones, glancing up when he realised that Jenny hadn't moved and was just staring at him. "What? Of course I'm going, she doesn't have anyone else to-"

"It's not that." Jenny sighed. "I'm going to have to show you my mutant powers now, aren't I?" She squinched her nose as if much put upon before reaching out and laying a hand on his arm. "This is going to feel very strange, Mr McCoy." Jenny raised a hand and snapped her fingers. At first it seemed that nothing had changed until Hank noticed that a petal that had fallen from one of the roses on his table was frozen in mid-air. He looked up at Jenny.

"You can freeze time?" He asked, finishing shrugging his jacket on.

"No." She frowned, looking at the petal. "This is something else…I don't know what. Just. Look, _think_ yourself over to that doorframe." She pointed. "Just think how nice it would be to be standing there, imagine what the room would be like if you were over there instead of over here-" She disappeared as if someone had thrown an invisibility cloak over her, re-appearing by the doorframe. Hank stared at his secretary blankly for a moment before trying it himself. If he was over there, Jenny would be at his side, he'd be able to see down the corridor, and the desk would be _there_ instead of _there_ and –

"Unk!" Hank couldn't help it. It felt as if someone had grabbed his belly button from the inside and yanked hard. He staggered as his vision blurred and re-focused, Jenny reached out and steadied him smiling slightly. Now they _both_ stood in the doorway. "Lord, how does Kurt do this _all_ the time?" Hank murmured to himself.

"Not bad for a beginner. A little further this time." Jenny said, disappearing and re-appearing down the entire length of the corridor. Hank took a deep breath and concentrated…


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: - yes long time no see I know. Sorry. A lot of stuff's happened kept me busy etc, dont know if I can update regularly but I'm going to try. Really sorry :s

* * *

Together they bounced across the city, Jenny constantly trying to reassure him that it was only a short distance away. It wasn't working. Hank, despite his usual resilience to such things, had to stop to puke.

"How does this work? Why can I do it?" He asked as he stood on shaky knees. Jenny looked up from where she was rummaging in her bag.

"I can pass it on if you're standing close enough to me. Here." She offered a bottle of water and Hank washed his mouth out, wishing that the used water hadn't hung in the air once he'd spat it out. "Ready?" She asked and Hank nodded. "It's only a little way now."

"Hm." Hank grunted, feeling remarkably bad tempered.

"No, look. There." Jenny pointed upwards and Hank felt his heart squeeze, the sky – usually tainted a dirty orange brown thanks to light pollution blazed with yellow light, a huge plume of black smoke curling up and away into nothingness. He looked at Jenny with a new sense of urgency and something in her gaze informed him that she knew exactly how he felt before she blinked out of existence. Hank took a deep breath as he felt the growing pull and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the unseen vice close around him. It was like being sucked between the two pieces of glass, either of which could fracture at the slightest movement and something important, Hank wasn't sure what but he was formulating a few theories, would break. He hadn't the time to analyze the feeling as it was over as soon as he had registered it. "Oh. My. God." Jenny's voice, made softer with shock and horror, caused Hank to open his eyes again.

Time was still moving at its glacial pace and the rich orange glow from the fire reflected gently off the faces of the firemen, children and-

"Kit." Hank breathed, making his way over to her. It was like walking through treacle but he managed it. She was stood outside of an ambulance, her arms full with a child sitting on her hip, she was glancing over her shoulder – her wispy hair caught in a nimbus of slow moving tendrils – at the small ambulance bed inside. Tiny flakes of ashes floated through the air like snow on a still day and Hank reached up to brush on away from her eyelashes – half closed in an apparently everlasting blink. "What happened here?" He murmured, the glacial movements and the quiet causing him to feel as if he was in some strange sort of church, a place to be hushed and humbled. He looked up at the little house, flames blossomed through every window and doorway swaying in the breeze like the limbs of a tree. Hank turned at the feel of a hand on his shoulder.

"You wanna step back a little?" Jenny asked with a sad smile. "If you just appear in her face she's going to freak out." The P.A. slash secretary glanced at Kits face with a wary expression. "And god knows what she'll do at the moment." Hank nodded and stepped away, hiding behind the ambulance slightly and winced as time sped up. The heat of the flames hit him like a sledgehammer, sending him back into the side of the ambulance, the noise was unbelievable, the roar of the fire, the screaming sirens, everyone was yelling at each other but one voice rose above nearly everything.

"-illy get the hell away from that house!" Kit was practically screeching when Hank came around the side of the ambulance once more, putting the small child down in order to drag a boy of about thirteen, away from the flames.

"I can put them out if you give me a chance!" The boy raged against her, pushing at her with his fists.

"It's _too much_, Billy! Too much." Kits voice died away from a yell to something tremulous as the boy, Billy, stopped pushing at her and clung to her instead, burying his ash stained face in her neck.

"Kit?" Hank said gently, having to raise his voice slightly above the noise of flames and sirens. She turned to face him and for a fraction of a second her expression was open and completely readable, the politicians heart very nearly broke at the vulnerability he saw there.

"Hank? How – I only called you a second ago." She frowned at him. Hank glanced at his watch, it had infact been only a few seconds since he had been in his nice, calm office. Kit shook her head, gathering herself as Billy left her arms to join the group of kids who hung around the back of the ambulance like lost sheep. "Look, I need you to take the kids, they've got to take Layla to hospital and-"

"Is this the children's Father?" Someone, a man in a paramedics uniform, asked sharply, looking at Hank with narrowed eyes.

"I'm honoured that you think I could be that prolific but no. I am not." Hank said, just a little coldly, pushing Kit towards the ambulance as he realised just who the tiny figure on the bed was. "I am however a good friend of the family-"

"Fine, whatever. Ma'am we need to go, you're little girl is in a life and death situation." The paramedic jumped into the back of the ambulance, offering Kit a hand up. Hank nearly jumped out of his skin at the feel of someone's hand on his back.

"Hank, you go with her. I'll get Scott Summers or the Professor to give these kids a room for the night." Jenny said firmly. Hank turned, half prepared to argue but stopped at the look on her face. "She's a mess, she's going to be good for nothing until the child is fine." She pushed again as one of the doors of the ambulance slammed shut and Hank hauled himself up.

"Marry me Jenny!" He called out, managing a broad, if not slightly glassy, grin.

"I'm not your type!" Jenny managed to call back before the second door slammed shut and the ambulance shot off like a bullet. The scream of the sirens was loud but oddly muted as Hank turned to sit down beside Kit. She was too busy staring, eyes like saucers but her expression otherwise eerily blank, at the medics who fluttered over and around the child in the bed.

"God. Is that Layla?" Hank asked quietly. Burns covered a huge amount of the little body, fortunately she was unconscious – probably from the pain. Hank had often had to treat burns himself and he could never get used to the stomach churning smell. He became aware of a pressure against his side and realised that Kit was leaning against him, on closer inspection, she looked utterly exhausted and Hank risked a limb in putting an arm around her, feeling her whole body weight settle against him.

"You were a doctor before…before you were a politician, right?" Kit asked quietly without looking at him, watching as they cut Layla's once pretty jeans away from her burned up legs.

"Yes."

"What do you think her chances are?" She asked, just as quietly. Hank glanced at her face.

"I don't know, Kit." The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the hospital doors.

"Call on, Rodger, we need the crash cart!" One of the paramedics called ahead as the doors of the ambulance swung open and the bed was rushed out.

"I know what that means! Her heart's stopped!" Kit yelled, completely panicked as she rushed along beside the bed.

"Ma'am you need to get out of the way." Someone was trying to get Kit to move back but it took Hanks strength to pull her away. Together they stood to one side, listening as the flat line bleat of the E.C.G filled the room, not registering a single heartbeat until it was hooked onto Layla's finger.

"It's faint but it's still there. That's a good sign." Hank murmured, his arm still around Kits waist. She stepped away from him, somehow managing to find a spare space beside the bed.

"Layla…Layla, baby, please" Kit whispered, her tone broken as she knelt beside the tiny hospital bed, taking the child's hand so very carefully in her own, brushing her hand over a tiny brow to smooth back singed golden curls, "baby don't give up, please, you hear me?" She asked, voice swinging between begging and firmness. The off beat, staccato sound of the heart monitor stuttered once and flat-lined. "No!" Kit yelled in a strangled voice. Hank pulled her out of the way, face grim as he had to fight to hold her, letting the doctors do their work. "No! Layla!" The secretary for mutant affairs winced as an elbow connected with his jaw with enough force to threaten to break it. Kit squirmed free of him, shoving him away and propelling herself forward at the same time. There was already a crash team surrounding the injured little girl on the bed, her body heaving as volts of electric shot through it in a desperate attempt to save her life. Kit shoved her way past the nurses. "Stop! Just _stop_!" Kit reached out, her hand on the chest of the nurse in front of her and the other on Layla's chest – unmindful of the burns there. Both Layla and the nurse _heaved_, bodies arching as if something was being wrenched from them.

"What's she doing?" One of the nurses yelled. "Damn mutan-" Hank growled, interrupting him.

"You were saying?" The nurse who had spoken out fled the room. Layla's eyes shot open and she gasped for air at roughly the same time that Kit let go of her, placing both hands on the gasping, wide eyed nurse and narrowing her eyes in concentration. The nurses, as one, seemed to fold around Layla, moving her bed away from the pair and into an unseen room. The nurse relaxed as Kit let go, sagging sideways slightly, leaning on the bed with a hand to his forehead as Kit stumbled backwards, sitting down hard on the tiled flooring. Hank, the nurse and Kit seemed to be alone in a pool of calm as the others fluttered around a fully conscious and miraculously healed Layla.

"Are you alright?" Hank asked the nurse who was now straightening out his clothing as if nothing had happened.

"Hm? What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine I just…I got this craving for a coffee with three sugars. I gotta go." The nurse, completely fine, walked out of the room. Hank knelt down besides Kit who was shaking from head to foot as if she had just run a marathon.

"Kit?" Hank said quietly. "Kit?"

"Layla? Is she-"

"She's fine. Are you?"

"No." Kit shook, sliding sideways to lean on him once more. "But I will be." She added calmly. They stayed that way, Hanks arms around her as she leaned on him for a moment before she heaved a sigh and pushed away, standing up shakily. "Come on." She actually offered him a hand up, hank took it but exerted absolutely no pressure.

"Where are we going?"

"I need to phone to make sure the kids are alright, no doubt you need some explanations and I need a coffee like a fish needs water." Kit pushed her hair away from her face, wiping a streak of ash and sweat across her forehead as she did so.

"And Layla?"

"She'll be fine, she's sleeping right now – a normal, restful sleep. Released tomorrow with no burns or smoke inhalation problems, I can guarantee." Kit walked on shaky legs to the doorway, leaning against the frame. Hank moved forwards, placing an arm around her shoulders and moving to place one behind her legs. "If you carry me, Hank McCoy, I swear I will never speak to you again." She snapped, pulling away slightly – almost enough to shrug off his arm from her shoulders but not quite. Hank managed a smile, a slightly manic, sleep-deprived smile but a smile none the less.

"It's good to know you haven't lost your sense of humour." He murmured as they walked out into the corridor.

"Its good to know you've been developing yours." She managed around a yawn.

"Do you _always_ have to have the last word?"

"Yes."

"Fancy that."

"Quite."


	10. Chapter 10

"So _that's_ what you call playing?"

"It got her attention didn't it?"

"Stop snarling at each other you two. We have to find her, god knows who she's talking too."

"Or _what_."

"Quite."

* * *

"So." Hank glanced up from his paper cup, ignoring that his elbows were slowly freezing to stiff agony thanks to the cold metal surface he was leaning against. Together Kit and Hank had finally escaped the probing questions that both cops and journalists had fired at them for what felt like days. Somehow the event had leaked out and it seemed like the entire world wanted to know about it. The police, however, had promised to find the 'perpetrator of such a vicious arson'…which Hank translated as 'we have no clue who dunnit'. Kit was, apparently, back to normal. The hair was still…untameable, the streak of dirt still ran across her forehead, but her eyes were guarded and icy once more though there was an air of panic about her, as if one word in the wrong tone would shatter her. "Where would you like me to start?"

"How about an easy one." Hank murmured, swilling the coffee around the cup, letting it collect the black gunk at the bottom. "What happened back there? On the ward? And how do you know Layla's alright?" It was, apparently, the right question to ask as the corner of Kits mouth twitched upwards in a smile that lasted all of a fraction of a second.

"You're already aware that I'm x-positive." She murmured, glancing around as if afraid to be overheard which Hank found amusing considering she was currently standing, nonchalantly leaning against the railings on the roof of the hospital where no one but the janitor came, drinking extremely bad, extremely strong coffee with someone who was bright blue and covered in fur. Luxuriant, neatly kept fur but fur none the less. "My…gift I suppose you could call it, is complicated. I can take the life force out of someone and use it to heal someone else."

"_Just_ to heal?" Hank asked shrewdly, there was something, some note in her voice. She looked up at him, guarded and sharp.

"Alright, not _just_ to heal. I can kill if necessary."

"Necessary. So you have killed in the past?" Hank's voice was lighter than he had intended it to come out. Kit leaned out over the railings slightly, checking that no one was below before pouring out the thick black gunk from the bottom of her cup.

"My past is something I'd rather not talk about." She said sternly before sighing, a thick white plume of air that curled away into the night sky. "But then, you're going to ask about why my house was on fire and all my children were shivering outside." She started to laugh, nearly hysterical and high pitched, before she cut herself off, clearing her throat.

"You're right. I am." Hank smiled slightly, taking her empty cup and using it as insulation for his own. "You said something on the phone. You said 'they've attacked the house this ti-"

"Yes. I know what I said." She snapped, rubbing her forehead and smudging the dirt streak into a peculiar heart shape. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to…when I was younger I worked for a company, Glass and Co. I wasn't entirely sure what the place did, I just filed papers and then one of the partners. Tabitha Morecroft, got ran over by some distant minded little twit and I…"

"You saved her?"

"Sort of. I nearly killed myself doing it but…she came back differently. I can't explain it. From then on I was employed to heal people who…well, they had injuries like bullet wounds, missing limbs, tire tracks sometimes." She frowned. "I didn't realise for a stupidly long time what was happening and by then it took me a stupidly long time to get out of it." Kit's shoulders relaxed slightly. "They've been wanting me back. First it was cajoling, bargaining and now…"

"The house." Hank interrupted with a heavy sigh of his own. "Why didn't you say something to me, Kit? I could have helped." Kit turned to look at him, her expression saying it all. She wasn't the type to ask for help, to lean on someone-

"I'm not exactly the most likable person on the planet, Hank." She surprised him by saying, her voice flat with the truth. "And besides, there are other elements that I'm leaving out." Hank smiled at her, refusing to let his curiosity get the better of him, he was aware that she had told him more than she had originally intended. This wasn't the Kit Kincaid he was used too. "So what now, Mr secretary?" She asked, more of a sigh than actual words, as she turned round, leaning back against the bar and looking at him with eyes that were both wary and guarded. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Hank leaned over and kissed her gently, reassuringly – quick taste of coffee with too much sugar, the peppermint she had eaten afterwards and the still lingering scent/taste of smoke – before settling back. Out of the corner of his eye Hank saw Kits mouth go slack with shock. He tried not to laugh.

"I expect we should go an see if Layla's alright…then I could drive you over to the mansion to see if the rest of the children are nicely settled-"

"They are. I phoned the school and ended up talking to a strange German man-"

"Kurt Wagner." Hank said with a grin. "He can come across as eccentric sometimes, yes."

"Mmm. He told me that those who couldn't sleep were up still, eating popcorn, ice cream and watching Errol Flynn movies."

"Yep. Definitely Kurt. They'll be fine with him, he's a grade a entertainer." Kit looked at him sceptically. "He used to be in the Munich circus." Hank added, a little defensively. Kit made a noise, covering her face with first one hand and then another as the noise continued. It took Hank a moment to realise that she was laughing, the click of hysterics making it odd but laughter none the less. "Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, yes. Fine. Why wouldn't I be? I have no home, a few dozen children to support, I'm fantastic." Kit bit her lower lip, closed her eyes to compose herself as her giggles threatened to turn into tears.

"You can stay with me tonight." Hank offered, spur of the moment. Kits eyes flew open only to narrow suspiciously, Hank held up both large hands. "I'll sleep on the sofa, no funny business I promise." Kit relaxed a fraction, allowing a tight smile as she rubbed her arms for warmth, heading towards the exit.

"You're rarely funny, McCoy…but perhaps the sofa won't be necessary." She threw over her shoulder, the smile widening and becoming a little more genuine at the look of shock on his face. "Are you coming? It's freezing out here." She held the door open as he started forward. Together they walked through the wards, pausing only to listen to a kind if not baffled nurse who stopped them to explain that Layla was indeed fully healed and demanding ice cream having woken from a short nap. Hank smiled to himself as he watched Kit whilst the nurse spoke. She, Kit, was entirely focused on the nurse despite how tired she was, the focus itself was entirely sharp, not a word escaped her attention.

"Has she been asking for me?" Kit asked finally.

"No. She was hoping you'd gone away so she could have more ice cream than you'd normally allow." The nurse smiled warmly. "You'd best go home, get a shower and pick her up tomorrow." The smile fell away. "Presuming you have a home to go too. Sorry."

"I have somewhere to go. Thank you." Kit reached out, patted the nurses shoulder and curled herself into Hanks arm once more, to his great surprise. In silence they walked out of the ward and went down the lift. It wasn't until they were heading out of the doors that Hank felt Kit stiffen against him.

"_You_!" Hank heard the screech before he saw her flying across the foyer, wild hair seeming to move entirely of its own accord as she ran towards a dark haired man who looked utterly petrified for a split second before Hank moved fast, grabbing hold of Kit.

"Kit! What-"

"You! You son of a bitch! You tell Glass that if he targets my children again and I'll kill you all my fucking self!" Kit growled, trying to escape from Hanks grip, hands turning to claws as she tried to get to the man.

"Those children of yours, Kit…amazing how the government doesn't know how many you've had" The man said, twitching like a horse with a fly in its ear. Kits eyes widened and she growled.

"Just _try_ and take my children from me you little shi-"

"Kit, calm down" Hank whispered in her ear, feeling her settle a little in his arms, allowing him to lead her away as she shook from head to toe. The secretary for mutant affairs was unsurprised when his car pulled up and Lyle opened the door swiftly, looking around in a way that was supposed to be nonchalant but only looked all the more furtive for it. "You're loosing your touch." Hank murmured as Kit ducked inside.

"No, I'm just preoccupied. Why is it all women want to talk about are curtains?" He said in reply, his frown deepening. "What was all that about in the doorway?" He jerked his head towards the dark haired man whom Kit had tried to attack, he was currently walking away from the hospital in a strange jerky half run half walk.

"Not a clue." Hank ducked inside the blessedly warm interior of the car to find Kit sat forward in the seat with her face in her hands. "Kit?"

"Yes. I know. His name is Lucian Book, I – we- everyone – most people call him Luci."

"Let me guess. He works for Glass and Co." Hank said dryly, barely registering the moment the car pulled away, too busy concentrating on Kit…and the tingling sensation as blood returned to his warming fingertips.

"Spot on." Kit yawned hugely, without lifting her face from her hands, and slid sideways, ending up with her cheek nuzzling against his chest. "Can we talk about it in the morning?" Hank let his hand slide around her back, feeling the shift and play of muscles beneath the thin covering of her shirt.

"As long as you promise not to go psychopathic-killing-woman on me, yes." He returned, yawning himself – proving that yawns are indeed contagious. Kit peeked at him from between her fingers before letting her hands drop.

"I promise." She said quietly, a smile creeping onto her face. "Unless you like that kind of thing." She reached out, winding her arms slowly around him as if she was afraid of being rejected. Hank grinned down at her, a sparkling hint of naughtiness lurking in his eyes.

"Well-" Neither of them saw the black car that pulled out the alleyway and neither of them were prepared when the two cars collided with deadly force.


	11. Chapter 11

_I'm still alive. This is a good thing. Pain is happening…feels like…broken rib? Great. Guess I won't be going to see the new Owen Wilson film…Wait…I can't see…no throbbing pain in my head though, that's not a good sign. Can I still talk?_

"Kit?" Hank croaked, worked his mouth to try and loosen it up. "Kit?"

"It's alright. Don't panic." An unfamiliar voice, female, richer than he was used too, and with a thick deep south accent. "You're eyesight will return in a second. Our doctor stated that it was part of the side affect of being kicked in the head rather viciously." Hank tried to move but was impeded by something solid and cold around his wrist, chains clinked.

"Where's Kit?" He asked, blinking hard in an attempt to clear his vision, he could see dark blurs now, a fire flickered against one wall he knew, but all he could see was a dull orange blob.

"Oh. I wasn't expecting that. Usually it's 'where am I? Who are you?'" The voice, quite attractive now that Hanks mind seemed to be functioning a little faster.

"I hate to break the script, where am I and who are you?" Hank managed a drawl, squinting as one of the blurs, a soft pink framed with gold, moved in closer. His sight was only blurry now thanks to a lack of glasses, an error that the pink and gold blur corrected by lifting them to his face. A youngish woman, maybe in her late twenties, early thirties, slipped easily into focus.

"You are here and I am Tabitha Morecroft. Most people call me Morecroft." She said, stepping back. She was dressed prettily, a white skirt with pretty pink roses and a matching jacket…she looked like an executive on valium. "Kit is over there, alive and relatively well." Morecroft folded her arms, turning to look at Kit who was chained, as Hank was, to the wall opposite. She was wide awake, unlike Hank, sporting a rather unattractive black eye and – Hank could tell from the way she was distributing her weight – she had damaged her left ankle, the ankle was swollen and a colour that could be described as unnatural.

"Are you alright?" Hank called across. Kit just stared back at him, her expression and gaze as unreadable as ever. "Kit?"

"She hasn't said a word since we brought you in." Morecroft sighed, pressing a hand to the side of her face like an exasperated housewife. "I just don't know _what_ to do." A slow, cruel smile spread across the blonde woman's face. "Well, actually I do but its so distasteful to say it." She turned to face Hank once again. She raised a hand to roughly waist height and a thin, perfectly straight piece of bone grew from her wrist and broke off, forming a deadly looking spike. "Pretty, isn't it?" She asked, holding the thing up as she attached a handle, with what looked like practiced ease. "Sharper than any metal, really quite strong and utterly disposable. Eco-friendly even." She smiled at Hank and leaned forward.

"_Don't you dare touch him_." Kit hissed from the other side of the room. Morecrofts smile grew even wider, her expression almost maniacal and most certainly disturbing.

"Ah. It talks." She turned and walked across the room, practically running to Kits side. "Care to share anything else?"

"Just leave him alone, Tabs." Kit said tiredly, none of the usual heat and acid in her voice as she refused to look at Hank.

"Artie wants to know what you did with it, Kitty." Morecroft practically whispered, plastering herself against Kits side. Kit turned her face away but Morecroft grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to look at Hank. "Where did you stash all that lovely information you had on the Bank of Cairo?"

"What?" Hank blurted without meaning too.

"You mean she hasn't _told_ you?" Morecroft laughed, yanking on Kits hair, Kit refused to cry out, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. "Little Kitty here, is a _fraud_ Mr Secretary." Tabitha smirked, pulling again. "She's a filthy fraud, a thief and a liar. Aren't you, dear? You're worse than we are when all's said and done." Kit opened her eyes to star at her. "I said, _aren't you_?" The knife appeared from nowhere, slamming into Kits ribs with enough force to make her scream.

"Stop it! Just stop!" Hank snarled, rearing forward in his chains, they rattled and tightened around his throat, threatening to choke himself.

"No!" Kit half yelled, half growled, taking heaving breaths. "I…am _not_…a fraud." She grinned sickly as blood oozed down over her chin. "I am…a con-artist." Morecroft laughed and drew her arm back, withdrawing the knife and aiming again.

"Leave her alone, Morecroft." A voice, bored, cultured and drawling called out. Tabitha let her lip curl, sticking the knife in one last time and leaving it there as she walked off. Hank looked into Kits eyes as she struggled to stay conscious, a loosing fight as her head drooped forward and her weight was taken by the bonds holding her.

"Kit-"

"She's perfectly safe." The owner of the voice, a tall, slender dark haired man dressed almost entirely in grey wool, stalked out of the darkness to sit in one of the comfortable armchairs. "I can assure you she won't bleed to death, her own natural abilities will take care of that." A cold, cruel smile slid its way across the curiously reptilian, pale face. "We know from experience, Dr McCoy."

"And you are? Oh no, let me guess. You're the third wicked witch from Macbeth right?"

"Most witty-"

"Forgive me, I was given a rather hefty whack on the head earlier, I'm usually sharper than this."

"I am Arthur Glass. Of Glass and Co. Are you thirsty? I hate to be an inconsiderate host."

"Yes, I'd noticed that the chains were washed with fabric softener."

"You find _yourself_ amusing, Mr McCoy?"

"Sometimes. When no one else is." Hank coughed, wincing from the sharp pain in his sides. Morecroft moved to stand behind Glass. "What do you want?"

"We just want her back." Arthur said, nodding to Kit, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. "Without her things just fall apart. We've lost so very many good men-"

"It might be wise to stop putting your men in a position to get shot." Hank snapped, patience wearing thin as he watched the thin stream of blood from Kits mouth go from a trickle to a steady drip. "What is your company interested in?" Morecroft and Glass exchanged a look, the woman shrugged.

"Why not? He's a dead anyway." Morecroft murmured, looking speculatively at Hank. "He'd make a rather fantastical throw rug."

"I always saw myself more of a coat than a rug." Hank interjected.

"On the surface we're a mild book company, we sell, we store, we ship." Glass shrugged. "Underneath that…well, you'd be surprised how many ways a book can be used to conceal a handful of diamonds." He smiled coldly.

"And Kit healed those who were…caught in the cross fire?"

"You know, it doesn't matter how long you keep me talking, Mr McCoy, no one is coming for you." Glass murmured, inspecting his nails as Morecroft pressed a glass of amber liquid into his waiting hand. Somewhere in the gloom a door opened and a third person entered.

"Kitty!" The someone yelled ecstatically. As he moved into the light, Hank recognised Lucian Book. Lucian moved to take Kit in his arms, pushing the bone knife in deeper without realising or caring and causing Kit to groan. "Kit, darling wake up, I've missed you so." He kissed her cheek, smearing blood across it. Kit turned her head and bit his cheek, making him scream, he drew back and slapped her hard enough to crack her head against the wall.

"Such charm, the pair of you." Glass said dryly. "So. Down to business. This is quite simple, Kit, cliché really. Either you come home and behave or Mr McCoy dies in a rather messy manner – you know how creative Morecroft can be after a long day." Glass smiled fondly at Morecroft who blushed brightly and lowered her head slightly as if bashful. "Kit." Glass said sharply, standing up. "Are you paying attention?" Kit raised her head groggily, grinning with teeth stained pink.

"You're loosing your touch, Morecroft…I think you've hit something you shouldn't of." She coughed, spattering the marble floor with sudden crimson, and carried on coughing, jerking at the chains that held her.  
"She's fitting!" Morecroft looked genuinely distressed, moving over to hold Kits head, prizing apart her jaws in order to get some of the froth and gore out.

"Let her go!" Hank yelled, Morecroft danced back as if Kit was suddenly made of electric. "Never hold a fitting person, they can shatter their own bones under the wrong circumstances. She can't breathe, you've probably punctured a lung…maybe grazed her heart at the angle you were at." He murmured, feeling oddly calm as he watched Kit jerk and spit.

"Fix it!" Morecroft yelled, her voice high with hysteria. "Fix it now!"

"Get me down and I'll do it myself." Hank said quietly, his gaze shifting from Morecroft to Glass who was watching him with narrowed eyes. The silence stretched on between them for what felt like forever, punctuated occasionally with Morecroft's frantic noises of 'Fix it!', before Glass shifted in his seat.

"Very well-"

"Glass!" Lucian Book interrupted.

"Quiet, Book. He's a good surgeon. Get them off the wall and down to the surgery, tell White he's got the night off." Glass murmured without breaking his gaze from Hanks. "If she dies, Mr McCoy-"

"Yes, pain beyond pain I know the drill."

"Quite."


	12. Chapter 12

"Fixitfixitfixitfixit-"

"Punctured plura…but her heart seems to be alright." Hank looked up at Glass who stood opposite him, between them Kit lay on the table, her top half uncovered and smeared with sickly yellow concoction to kill any lingering germs bacteria. "Of course, this would be much easier if you'd let me hook her up to a heart monitor."

"-fixitfixitfixitfix-"

"It's not a case of _letting_, Mr McCoy. We don't _have_ one." Glass actually looked embarrassed as he looked back down at Kit. "We never needed one before. We've always had healers. I've got three driving over here right now."

"Hmm. Pass me that tube…and the scalpel. She keeps healing."

"-fixitfixitfixitf-"

"And that's a _bad_ thing?" Glass asked as he handed over the items.

"Her healing ability is all very well and good but her lung is almost entirely full of fluid." Hank murmured, trying to ignore Morecroft's constant low murmuring. "If the slit heals over whilst one lung is still full there's a good…possibility that she might…drown." Hank grunted, fighting to get the tube in. He heaved a sigh of defeat, the tissues were bonding faster than he could get the pipe in. "Alright." He murmured to himself, holding the scalpel and trying to stop the urge to let his hand start shaking. He'd never had shaking hands before. "Can you get her out of here?" He growled, jerking his head at Morecroft who had never once looked away from Kits prone form.

"Fixitfixitfixitfixit." She was murmuring constantly, almost under her breath but not quite, her fingertips white where she clutched at the end of the bed that Kit lay on.

"Morecroft…_Morecroft_. Go and find Book, see what he's doing." Glass ordered imperiously. Morecroft stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before turning on her heel and leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Hank took a deep breath and released it slowly, glancing up at Glass.

"Do you actually care for Kit?" The doctor asked. Glass looked at him for a long moment before a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"As much as I hate to sound like Tabitha – fix it Mr secretary." Hank resisted a slightly maniacal laugh and looked down at Kit, his hand was perfectly steady…he just prayed that her already abused body could take this. The hand that held the scalpel shot forward at the perfect angle, ripping through the healing flesh and granting access to the tube he swiftly inserted into it, rapidly draining off the fluids there. "What now?" Glass asked when the steady stream had turned to a slow, irregular drip.

"Now I guess it's up to –" Kits eyes pinged snapped open, the blackness of her pupils shrinking down to near pinpoints in the light, a most unsettling effect. Hank and Glass exchanged looks before they leaned over the table to look down at her.

"Kit?" Hank said softly, her eyes swivelled to face him.

"I think I died." She murmured, real amazement colouring her voice. Hank smiled down at her before flinching as, in a move so quick it was almost a blur, she put her hand on Glass and her hand on Hanks chest – causing him to exhale swiftly, it seemed her hand had thumped into his broken rib with incredible force. The three of them jerked – Kit rose from the table – and Hanks head snapped back as…something ripped through him. It was like…it was like sunlight and contentedness, joy, ecstasy and fulfilment all at the same time, all at once. It left him weak at the knees, gasping and clutching onto the edge of the bed as Kit sat up, apparently completely well…even her broken ankle was healed, the bruise on her face reduced to a pretty lavender rather than an angry black. "Are you alright? I'm sorry but I had to take some for myself." The doctor had to look away as she drew the plastic pipe he had used as a drain from her side, he had a tough constitution but that was a bit much even for him.

"Some what? What _was_ that? Have you killed him?" Hank looked down at where Glass was sprawled inelegantly across the floor, looking like a well-dressed doll that some unmindful child had just dropped.

"No, of course I haven't but he'll be out for a while." Kit slid off the table, her arms folding across her chest. "Can I have your jacket please?"

"What? Why?" Hank, thoroughly confused nearly snapped.

"I don't intend to make my escape completely naked from the waist up, Mr McCoy." She snapped, sounding much more like her old self despite the blush that crept its way onto her face. Hanks eyes drifted down to where her arms were folded across her chest…and promptly started to blush himself, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it over.

"You know your way out of here?"

"Yes but we'll have to hurry. Morecroft usually checks the security cameras every five minutes. She's a paranoid." Kit buttoned up the jacket. "Thank you." They headed towards the door, Kit paused to land a solid kick on Glass's ribs. "What? No one's perfect."

"I've heard the expression 'kick-them-when-they're-down' before but…" Hank left it hanging as they moved out into the perfectly still corridor. Kit led the way down it, pausing at the end to check the corridor leading away to one side.

"I _think_ we're all clear…" She murmured, stepping out and waving for him to follow her.

"Hey! You!" The familiar battle-cry of guards around the world echoed out, Kit took off like a bullet from a gun without bothering to look around. Hank glanced back to see four men in black suits, each with a fully loaded gun and all of them aiming at the pair of them. "Stop!"

"Does that _ever_ work?" Hank yelled to Kit, his shoes skidding on the polished floor as Kit turned a sharp corner and he struggled to keep up. She led him round what felt like a maze as gunfire echoed all around them, stopping so sharply that Hank ran into her back at one point.

"Can you climb, Mr secretary?" She grinned at him brightly, an expression he had never seen whilst they were at work.

"Yes?"

"Then up. See there?" Kit pointed to a vent, a small square hole in the ceiling.

"I can't get through that." Hank shook his head.

"Yes you can. Come on." Kit seemed to dig her nails into the panelling on the wall and hoisted herself up swiftly, knocking aside the vent and hauling herself inside easily before turning to offer a hand. "Come on! They're getting closer can't you hear?" Hank glanced down the corridor before bracing himself. He made it up in one jump – showing off just a little – holding onto the sides as he hoisted himself in. Kits hand fisted in the back of his shirt helped a little, though he did have to squeeze through when his tummy made itself known.

"Don't say anything about a diet. Just don't." Hank growled warningly. Kit smiled at him, sarcasm lurking close to the surface.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Now move over." She instructed before replacing the grill over the vent. They held perfectly still, neither of them daring to breathe as the security men passed beneath them.

"This is so cliché. Escaping through the air-vents." Hank murmured as they crawled along the shaft.

"You know why things are cliché? Because they work." Kit called over her shoulder from ahead. Hank tried not to pay attention to the fact that her rear was moving in an interesting way, right in front of him. All of a sudden the shaft opened out into a wide tunnel, one that was headed by a huge revolving fan. "You have _got_ to be kidding me." Kit sighed. "This is new…how are we going to get through this?" She gesticulated at the huge swooping fan. "There's no bar to jam it with and there's no way I'm jumping through it, my timing isn't that good."

"We could always just switch it off." Hank suggested, moving over to stand next to the control panel by the wall. Kit glared at him, refusing to say anything, as he pushed a big red button and the fan stopped, allowing them safe passage.

"Nothing's ever that easy when _I_ do it." She mumbled to herself as she ducked under. "There's light up ahead." Together they sprinted down the last length of the tunnel, bursting out into the open air, on the side street of a main road, cars and early-birds seemed to hurtle past in a sudden, surreal and above all _normal_ scenario.

"What now?" Kit asked, sucking in huge lungfuls of air.

"Best to…carry on…running." Hank replied, resisting the urge to clutch at a stitch in his side. He was fit but since being in office he'd let himself slide a little. He just hadn't realised how much.

"Where too?"

"The school. Xavier's. We'll be safe there." He took hold of Kits hand and pulled her towards the bustling street, putting his arm around her, practically holding her upright as the adrenaline started to wear off. "Anyone following us?"

"Not that I can see." Kit started to shake. "We're safe…we're safe." A car screeched to a halt beside them, the door slamming open of its own accord.

"I'd move it, if I were you." Logan's face, an unexpected source of relief, appeared before he ducked back in. Hank practically shoved Kit into the car before climbing in beside her – he didn't have time to reach the door before it slammed shut again and the car sped off. Hank glanced at the driver and smiled.

"Thanks, Jean." He murmured, letting his head rest against the soft leather. Jean turned her head slightly to smile at him, her attention completely focused on driving. Scott turned in the passenger seat to look at them.

"We figured something had gone nasty when your names didn't turn up on any of the local hospital registers after the crash." He explained. "Jean and the Professor have been looking for you since yesterday but couldn't pick up a single sign-"

"The building is guarded against telepaths." Kit put in dazedly.

"-we suspected the worst until Jean picked up on you a half hour ago."

"You flared up, bright white, Hank, like you were having sex or something." Jean said, unashamedly. Hank blushed, glad for the cover of his blue colouring, and refused to look at Kit.

"Not quite. Where are we going now? Back to the mansion?"

"Yes. The professor wants to looks at you first hand I think and Ororo wants to yell at you for getting yourself into such a situation." Scott's normal stoic-leader expression broke under the onslaught of a boyish grin that made him look almost decades younger. Hank flinched slightly at the thought.

"Wait. I need to go to the hospital, Layla's going to be discharged in the morning…this morning now I guess." Kit blinked and pulled a face, trying to fight off the sleep that wanted to take over.

"Don't worry about it. Kurt and one of your kids, Luke I think his name was, went and fetched her earlier." Logan explained. "Relax, kid, everything's taken care of, you're safe." Kit nodded as the others carried on talking, leaning into the crook of Hanks arm and resting her cheek against him.

"Safe." She whispered to herself. "Safe."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: - Adult situations ahead. Just so's you know. Thank you very much for reading and thank you even more to everyone who reviewed, it meant a LOT and I'm so sorry this took so long to write!

* * *

"Morecroft's a psychopathic torturer. Half in love with whoever it is she's inflicting pain on and panics every time she starts to kill them." Hank sighed. It seemed like they'd been questioned by the well-meaning x-men for hours but after they had arrived there had been food – which, even though it was as simple as a ham sandwich, tasted like heaven – and a few jokes, Kit had checked on the children and Layla, who had been fine, and now they were settled in one of the study's. Jean, Scott, Logan and, of course, Kit. "Book seems to be a run-a-round, a lackey doing the intel for the other two. Glass is the one you want. Dangerous. Psychopath with a brain."

"We can handle that." Logan smirked, glancing over at Jean. "We got some brains on our team."

"Please don't smoke here, the kids are listening at the door and some of them can smell what's going on in here." Kit said quietly from where she sat right on the edge of one of the sofas before yawning hugely. Logan grunted and slid the cigar back into his jacket. Without thinking about what he was doing, Hank moved over to sit beside Kit, letting her lean against him.

"I think we'd better report to the Professor, he'll want to know what's happening." Jean said, rather tactfully, tugging on Scott's jacket as she pushed away from the desk they were leaning against. "Logan, you coming?"

"Yep." With a look of deep resentment Logan pulled himself out of the chair and slouched out of the room leaving Hank and Kit alone with a slightly awkward silence. Hank frowned into middle space, trying to think of a way to break it. Something immediately sprang to mind as Kit sat forward, putting her face in her hands.

"So. Con artist huh?" Hank asked with a smile, Kit turned to glare at him through the mesh of her fingers.

"If you're going to tell me to hand myself in for my previous crimes I'm going to tell you to stick it where –"  
"I wouldn't dream of suggesting such a thing, Miss Kincaid." Hank shrugged, laughing on the inside when her jaw dropped with shock and clicked shut a fraction of a second later. "We have a thief at the school, you know, Remy Lebeau."

"Remy Etienne Lebeau?"

"You've met?"

"I think I owe him money." Kit murmured, flicking a stray piece of hair from her shoulder. Hank reached over, brushing a hand down the entire luxurious length of her hair. She practically purred.

"The first thing I'm going to do tomorrow is buy you a decent brush." He murmured, a smile on his face. She turned to him, eyes narrowed, and he could almost see the acidic retort lining up behind her lips – he cut it off effectively by leaning forward and kissing her for a long, long time. When she had relaxed once more, pliable and wound around him as tightly as he could ever possibly wish, he pulled away slightly. "Do you believe in happily ever after?"

"Oh do shut up, Mr secretary, and come home with me."

"For once I'm quite prepared to not argue."

"Hm."

* * *

Hank growled loudly as the covers were _yanked_ off him, cold air rushing in where wonderful warmth had been only moments before. He reached out blindly, scowling and down right bloody refusing to open his eyes to the morning's light.

"Don't bother" A familiar voice, thick with left over sleep, grumbled in his ear. "The kids have taken it for their tent. It's a Friday." Kit said, as if that explained everything, rolled over, flinging an arm over him and spooning up behind him and buried her face in the warm spot that lingered between his shoulder blades. Hank shivered as she sighed.

"I hate children" He growled without really meaning it.

"So do I" She replied, voice muffled, he could feel her lips moving against his skin, "it's no wonder we get on so wonderfully" She laughed silently, he could feel that too…an interesting little vibrating movement against his back. He rolled over carefully, cracking one eye open to look at her. She was lying there, arms around him still, but with one side of her face pressed into the pillow, frowning against the light, her hair – as usual - was a mess…and she was pouting a little. It wasn't a particularly pretty sight – even with the pink ruckled silk slip she'd managed to get into at some point bunched up around her thighs – but it _was_…cute. Cute. A word he'd never ever thought of in relation to her before. Hanks grumpiness slowly dissipated as he looked down at her, "keep looking at me like that and I'll gouge out your eyeballs with a spoon" she said without opening her eyes.

"I never knew you were so affectionate in a morning" He replied with a slight smile, feeling her hips undulate against his own lazily.

"And your breath stinks" She added, cracking open an eye as a grin started to form.

"Yes well you're a wreck first thing in the morning, you don't see me complaining do you?" He snapped back with a low growl as they rolled over together, he was on his back, looking up at her. She stretched as she laughed, hands flat on his chest and her legs either side of him.

"A wreck, huh?" She asked, hips rocking against his own, chin resting on the back of her hands. Hank chuckled deeply, his hands running down her thighs.

"How would _you_ describe someone who's face is practically stuck to the pillow with drool?_"_

"The best lay your ever likely to get." She said richly, sitting up as she raised an eyebrow. The motion of her hips stilled though they did shift as she stretched, spine arching in a 'c' and her arms way back. Hank appreciated the view with a rather smug grin.

"And one I fully intend to enjoy-"

"Later. Come on, boss, we're late to the office as it is." Kit rolled away and got up, proceeding to pick her clothes from amongst his.

"We're going to work? Today? I'm the boss! Can't we just phone in sick?" Hank whined, earning himself a withering look. "Oh al_right_." He snapped, rolling off the bed and pulling his pants on with enough force to risk ripping them.

"Come on, I'll make waffles for everyone."

"Ooh waffles."

* * *

"You have _got_ to be joking." Kit glared, narrow eyed and full of spite, at the luckless delivery boy who held a large bouquet of stylishly arranged flowers, although the effect was rather knocked off by the pink balloon that was attached to it.

"No, ma'am, the label says Kit Kincaid, I've got the address and everything. You just need to sign, ma'am." The boy babbled, struggling with both flowers and clipboard.

"Fine. Whatever." Kit snatched the board, standing up from the desk she had been working at, and scribbled a signature. "_Wait_." She yelled as the boy, having deposited the flowers on the corner of the desk, made a dash for the door. "Here." She handed over a twenty, saw the brief look of confused gratitude and tried to resist a smirk. "Well? Leave."

"Yes, ma'am!" Kit rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the flowers. Whoever sent them had taste, she had to admit. Calla lilies – shaded such a delicate pink that they looked like they were blushing – nestled amongst white carnations and shockingly pink peonies…it was definitely a gift for a woman. Kit found herself reaching out to touch the petals gently, they were still warm from the hothouse…

"So do you like them?" Hank asked from where he leaned against the doorway, hands rammed into his pockets.

"Flowers?" Kit asked without turning to look at him, sarcasm in her voice warring with the look of warmth and affection on her face. "How original."

"There's a card too" Hank pointed out, quite casually, pretending not to pay her any attention. Kit shot him a look full of distrust and reached into the pale pink blooms, finding the card and flipping it open with her thumb, awkwardly using one hand to tug out the little disk of paper,

"_A man may boast himself invincible by men; never by woman_" She read out. Hank watched her over the top of his glasses and bit back a grin as her expression changed for a few seconds as she gazed down at the little card obviously re-reading just that line, her gaze soft and what looked like touched tears gathering in her eyes before she blinked them away, "_pop the balloon_" She looked up at him, the mask of aloof coldness held in place by a hairs breath, "pop the balloon?" She warbled. Hank let the grin out, shrugging one shoulder as he sat back, folding his hands behind his head. She sighed as if much put upon, snatching a pair of scissors from his stationary pot and taking a vicious stab at the pink balloon. Something small and silver clattered to the table and Kit frowned, a tiny puzzled smile curling one corner of her mouth, "keys?" She asked, jingling the little circle on one finger, "lots of keys? Is this a clever metaphor because if it is-"

"I have many friends, being slightly more amiable than you usually are has it's advantages after all" He grinned at the look of indignation on her face as she spluttered, "And one of my friends happens to be a rather influential property developer with seven or eight spare buildings on his account at any one time. Sometimes he takes aforementioned houses and sells them, other times they're developed or knocked down and what have you" He waved a hand dismissively, watching her face fall into a puzzled frown. "Am I boring you?"

"Is there a point to this?" The keys had been lowered now, hanging by her side.

"Eventually. My friend, this property developer you remember? He came across one particular house that he couldn't bring himself to destroy" He held up a hand, leafing through a stack of paper before finding what he was looking at and handing her a little booklet, "he didn't want to sell it to some anonymous stranger either"

"I'm not surprised, it's practically a mansion" Kit said dryly, wondering what this was about,

"So he was in a dilemma, until I offered to take it off his hands for him" He explained calmly, "for a very reasonable price of course. Minimal in fact. I thought three cents was quite the phenomenal price"

"Did anyone ever tell you boasting is a sign of insecurity?" She asked with narrowed eyes as she threw the little leaflet, trying not to look at the picture of one of the most beautiful houses she had ever seen, "and still you have yet to reach a point" She said scathingly, "you've taken so long I've forgotten what my question was"

"The point, Kit" He said as he stood up, walking round to lean against the desk, arms folded as he stood little more than a foot away from her, "is that I've had this new place freshly decorated by yet more friends of mine and…I'm giving it to you" She blinked but didn't react beyond that. "Or, more specifically, I'm giving it to the kids you look after. Xaviers School for the Gifted, is quite happy to put up funds for Kincaid's Orphanage for X-Positive Children, as much as you need and you can see there's extensive grounds for them to run round in, a pool and a basketball...are you ok?" She was gasping, her knees giving out as she backed towards a chair, her hand covering her mouth as she stared wide eyed at the papers she still held in her hand. Anyone watching from outside the office would have seen a handsome blue man moving towards a woman who looked distressed, silently mouthing words of comfort before she looked up at him, obviously unable to say anything before launching herself forward. Anyone watching from outside the office would have seen the blue man fall back under an onslaught of passionate kisses and the two of them disappearing behind the large oak desk. Anyone watching from outside of the office would have noticed that the couple didn't reappear from behind the desk for quite sometime. As it turned out, deep inside their souls both Kit Kincaid and Hank McCoy believed in a type of 'happy ever after', an ending or beginning, that they were both prepared to venture into.

The end

TBC…?


End file.
